On My Own
by Dragon Sister Kelsi
Summary: "Leslie, becoming friends with Quasimodo was the worst thing you've ever done. Now the five of us are in a blood feud with the whole cheer squad, Vice Principal Frollo wants you dead, and to top it all off, the entire student body is rebelling! You've created something huge, Les." "It's not just that, girls. I think... I think I'm in love with him." QuasiXOC, present-day setting.
1. The Sleepover Before The Storm

**Hey, readers! This is my second HoND fanfic (for those of you reading 'Heart of a Thief', yes, I'm continuing that), and this one is one I've been thinking about for weeks. My friends told me that I really should write it, they like the idea and want me to show it off to the world on this website.**

**So, this story is about my friends and I and how our lives would be like if Quasi went to our school. There's a LOT of romance and stuff in here, and a bunch of cussing and talk of sex. Be warned.**

**I'd like to thank a few people before I start: Jamie, Adrianna, and Mobina for being my best friends and being amazing. I love you guys so much.**

**So, here it is!**

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**Chapter One: The Sleepover Before The Storm**

The room was a complete mess. Pieces of popcorn were strewn all over the carpeted floor, empty mugs (which used to contain frozen yogurt) were placed on tables and couches, the TV was playing a movie that nobody was paying attention to anymore, and pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags had been tossed around and pushed off to the side. It looked like a tornado had come through my basement and caused major destruction, or maybe even a hurricane. There was a huge puddle of spilled lemonade that was seeping into the carpet, which could be thought of as rain, so yeah, perhaps a hurricane. And it wasn't just one hurricane, but four. Four laughing, teenage girls in pajamas.

Hurricane Adrianna, Hurricane Mobina, Hurricane Jamie, and I, Hurricane Leslie.

Any idiot would have guessed that this was a sleepover in action.

"Okay, okay, okay, okay,_ okay_!" Jamie exclaimed, laughing as she picked up the three red cards in the middle of our small circle. We were playing '_Apples to Apples_', (the game in which someone puts down a green card with a verb on it, and the other players have to put down a card that they think the verb describes best). "The nominees for 'repulsive' are…" She reached out a hand and flipped over one of the red cards. "Gas Station Restrooms." I gave a short laugh (which lucky girl managed to get a hold of a card that good?), while Jamie and Mobina were giggling like crazy.

Adrianna gave an awkward smile, a long, thin line stretching across her face. "My card dominates all others!" she laughed.

I rolled my eyes, still smiling. "Unicorn, you're not supposed to give away whose card is whose." Unicorn was my special nickname for Adrianna. Long story, involves a purple unicorn helmet from Walmart and an Instagram account.

She shrugged. "Well, sure, but everyone probably already knew that it was my card. After all, you're looking at the chick who dressed up as Jean Valjean from Les Miserables for Halloween and then stole a loaf of bread from the cafeteria-"

"-and didn't know that it was covered in mold and threw up after she ate it," Jamie laughed. "Damn, eighth grade was fun."

Mobina giggled and shook her head. "Only you, Adrianna, only you."

Hurricane Adrianna was the craziest and loudest one out of the three of us. She's the one that makes up most of our clique's inside jokes (and our clique was much more than us three girls. There were at least ten people in this dysfunctional, insane clique), and the one who causes the most commotion during lunch. Loud and insane. Two words that completely describe Adrianna. She has curly, light brown hair that she sometimes straightens (tonight, that wasn't the case), deep, chocolate brown eyes, and wears rectangular glasses that made her eyes look twice as big as they normally are. She's very pretty, with gorgeous eyes and curves in all the right places. She's very short, though, and hasn't grown an inch since seventh grade.

"Alright, next card," Jamie said, flipping over the next red card in the middle of the circle. "Yellow Jackets," she read.

I shrugged. "Eh. They are repulsive, I guess-"

"But not as repulsive as mine," Adrianna cut me off, giving a cocky smile. "You walk into a gas station restroom, and no matter how desperate you are, you walk right out."

"Like that road trip that I took this August," Jamie laughed. "Remember the one I told you guys about?"

"Oh yeah!" Mobina laughed. "Your mom refused to use the gas station restroom, and she peed her pants a half hour later." I remembered being told that story over the phone a few weeks ago. Jamie was laughing so hard that she could barely speak. Yeah, I felt bad for her mom, but we were the most immature teenagers in the entire school district. Of course we laughed at it.

Hurricane Jamie- what can I say about her? She's gorgeous. Shoulder-length, straight, deep brown hair, dark brown eyes, and dark skin. She's thin, curvy, and her entire face shape is perfect. Honestly, she could be a model, although she'll never agree with me on that one. She's very funny, kind of awkward, but a great person overall (she's also an expert tweeter and fanfiction writer. I think I'm in about five of her stories. And her voice- oh my gosh! She needs to go on the X-FACTOR, but she keeps telling me that she's not good enough. Jamie, _come on. _You'd make a perfect superstar!).

"But guys, really, yellow jackets," Mobina said, trying to be serious. "I've been stung five times, and I'll tell you, it hurts like _hell._"

"You should stay inside more," I said, grabbing my iPod off of the footrest and checking my notifications. Fifteen likes on Instagram and one favorite on Twitter.

Mobina groaned. "My arm is a_ bee-magnet_," she said, showing us her right arm. There was a small bump by her wrist, too big to be a mosquito bite. "I got stung two days ago when I was playing soccer with my sister."

Jamie shook her head. "Those tiny black and yellow bastards."

Hurricane Mobina is very pretty as well. She has tanned skin and long, wavy, deep brown hair that looks midnight black. Last year, she got purple streaks put in her hair, which turned light blonde over a short period of time. Her eyes are a pool of chocolate, but much darker than Adrianna's. She, too, wears rectangular glasses. She has a great, curvy figure, and a great personality to match. She's funny and very sweet, everything that I look for in a best friend.

"And finally," Jamie said slowly, reaching in and flipping the final card over. "Oh my God!" Jamie burst out laughing, clutching her sides and falling back on the floor. Adrianna quickly grabbed the card and put it where we could all see what it said.

_My vice principal._

We couldn't help it. Within half a second we were all rolling on the floor, cracking up, our heavy laughter mixing together and filling the whole basement (I was silently praying that we didn't wake my dad up. Lord knows he'd kill me if we did). That was the truest card anyone had ever put down all night. My vice principal. How funny was that?

It took us what seemed like an hour to stop laughing (which was really only two minutes). Jamie had started crying, and was wiping the tears out of her eyes. "This card wins. Hands down."

"YES!" I yelled, laughing and taking the green card from Jamie. "I _knew_ it!"

"Oh my lord Jesus," Adrianna said, giggles still escaping her mouth. "How on Earth did you get that card?"

"Luck, my dear Unicorn. Pure god damn _luck_," I replied, shaking my head. "As soon as Jamie said 'repulsive', the first thing that popped into my mind was Vice Principal Frollo."

"You are a fucking _genius_," Jamie laughed, shaking her head slowly. "Oh my _gosh, _Leslie."

Vice Principal Frollo- where could I start with him? A tall, old man with gray hair, wrinkled skin, a long nose, and these creepy eyes that were like daggers. If he passes you in the hall, _do not talk or breathe too loud. Do not do anything that will make him look at you._ His stare was terrifying, like being stabbed in the face, which was where the nickname 'Old Dagger Eyes' came from. He was old and way too strict. And the way he talked made him sound like he was one of those super smart villains from a Disney movie. I just couldn't stand him.

Since he was the vice principal, he was in charge of justice in the school, punishing the students who broke the rules and all that stuff. His punishments were usually unfair and very harsh. If you accidentally broke something, detention for two weeks. If you broke something on purpose, public humiliation ensued, and I'm not sure if it's legal for someone to do that. There are even rumors that he sometimes beat students who really misbehave. That is definitely against the law, and I seriously had doubts that Frollo would actually risk his job by doing that, but ever since the Edward Finchel incident, I've believed it.

What's the Edward Finchel incident? Well, let me explain.

A few years ago, (I can't remember if I was in 9th or 10th grade when this happened), there was a rumor going around the school that Frollo had raped an eleventh grade math teacher, Miss Gringoire, which most of the students believed. Miss Gringoire was getting swarmed with questions about it, and she denied that he ever touched her. However, people kept saying that she denied it in a shaky voice, like she was afraid to answer, and another rumor went around the school that Frollo had made Miss Gringoire keep her mouth shut about the whole situation. One rumor led to another, and soon Frollo was the only thing we talked about. I couldn't walk through a hallway without hearing his name whispered at least five times.

About a week after the rumor began going around, I walked into school and saw, written in big, red letters on a wall in the main lobby, **'VICE PRINCIPAL FROLLO IS A RAPIST'.**

Frollo got pissed. You should have seen him. He screamed in anger and knocked a wrestling trophy down, going into a complete rage and looking like he was about to strangle the life out of someone. His face got red and his eyes became like machine guns, wounding everyone around him. Adrianna was even brave enough to get the whole rage on video, but only a few people actually watched it. The actual event was scary enough.

Within the next hour, the culprit had been found- senior Edward Finchel, who, as I'd been told, was planning the greatest senior prank of all time. This was probably it. Nobody saw Edward all day, and people began to get suspicious. "Frollo probably took Edward down to his torture chamber and is currently having his lowly slaves whip him in an evil manner," I remember Adrianna saying at lunch. I laughed, knowing that it was a joke, but the next day, Edward came to school with scars and burns all over his body. It looked like he had just barely survived an apocalyptic fire. When he was asked about it, Edward just shook his head, not saying a word.

And the new rumor was that Vice Principal Frollo had beaten Edward, and beaten him hard.

Everyone wanted Vice Principal Frollo fired as soon as possible. The students protested, screamed, did everything they could to get Frollo out of the school. Edward's parents called the police about ten times, and a trial was held in a different town. Apparently, the jury found Frollo innocent- what the hell!? No! No, no, no! The student body was furious. The jury must have been really fucking stupid to not see that Frollo was guilty. I mean, there were scars and burns all over Edward's body! The proof was right there. The entire twelfth grade went on strike, but came back to school a week later, out of realization that they weren't going to graduate if they kept it up. The entire school was tense that week, as if everyone was afraid that just by being in the same building with Vice Principal Frollo, they'd end up like Edward. Scars and burns. An obvious beating.

And to this day, the Edward Finchel incident is still talked about wildly, like it just happened yesterday.

Of course, the girls and I ended up talking about the Edward Finchel incident. All four of us agreed that Frollo beat Edward, there was no denying that. But Adrianna was completely convinced that Frollo had some kind of torture chamber where he did this to students.

"I'm telling you guys, he _has_ a torture chamber!" Adrianna said as I laughed at what my friends were saying. "It's under the school. It's dirty and murky and full of goop and everything. There's probably bats and spiders everywhere." She took a moment to giggle. "He takes rule breaking students down there and he has his slaves whip them. His deformed, hunchbacked slaves."

Jamie and Mobina suddenly threw their heads back and laughed harder. "His hunchbacked slaves!" Jamie exclaimed, shaking her head. "Of course!"

"The hunchback," Mobina giggled, "oh my gosh, yes! He acted so tense and weird when Frollo walked past him the other day, and he just seems so-"

"Awkward and suspicious! Oh my gosh!" Adrianna squealed, leaning in closer. "I saw him talking to Frollo today!"

"Yeah, I know!" Jamie replied, eyes wide. "If that doesn't give away that he's Frollo's, like, deformed henchman, I don't know what will!" Mobina just kept on laughing like a maniac.

I was beyond confused. "What do you guys mean? Who's Frollo's deformed henchman?" I started getting a bit nervous. Who on Earth were they talking about?

Adrianna just shook her head. "Come on, Leslo, you know who we're talking about." Leslo- the nickname that had been given to me in 6th grade by Adrianna and had stuck with me ever since. I had a bunch of nicknames. Leslo, Lezzarchanezzar, Writing Goddess (because of my love of poetry and writing talent), and Twiggy, because of my tall and stick-thin figure.

"The hunchback," Mobina said, looking at me like I should know what they're saying. "Messed up face, walks unbelievably awkwardly, sits in the back of the classroom in French?"

"If I wasn't confused before," I said, shaking my head, "I sure as _fuck_ am confused now." Who the hell were they talking about? I'd never heard of or seen anyone like who they were describing.

"_Quasimodo Frollo_!" Adrianna exclaimed. "The monster who sits in the back of our French classroom! You've never heard of him?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Oh, _God_, Leslie!" Jamie said as she rolled her eyes, grabbing her iPhone and quickly typing in her passcode. "He was all that the school could talk about on Monday! He walked into the classroom and all eyes were on him!"

"She was probably writing a poem or something," Mobina said. "She was too into what she was writing to see him as he walked in." Yes, I do write poems. Yes, I do lose myself in them. No, I'd never heard of this hunchbacked guy.

"Alright, alright, alright!" I said, throwing my hands up. "Can you guys please explain to me who this hunchback person is?"

Adrianna said up straighter. "Well, he's this guy in our French class who looks like a complete and utter beast," she explained, a disgusted look on her face, like she couldn't even think of him without getting sick. "He has a hunched back, a messed up face, and he's quiet as hell. I've never heard him say a single word throughout the entire school year-"

"AJ, the school year started on Monday," I pointed out. "It's been almost a week-"

"Doesn't matter!" Mobina cut in. "He sits there with a nervous look on his face like he's plotting domination over the school. I was terrified when I first saw him." She shivered, shaking her head slowly. "Looks like something I'd see in my nightmares."

"Here," Jamie said, looking up from her iPhone. "This is him."

Jamie gave me the iPod, and I looked down at the picture. It was a boy, looking about my age, walking down the hall. He was deformed, yes. The hump on his back was just about higher than his head, weighing him down. He was hunched over and looked like he was walking weirdly. He had a huge lump hanging over his left eye, and his nose looked like the nose of a pig, big and scrunched up in the middle of his face. His mouth was kind of shaped like a horseshoe. His hands were big and meaty, arms very thick and muscular, some strands of dark hair growing across them, but his legs were pretty thin. His eyes were a light green color, and his hair was bright red and messy, a few strands falling in front of his face.

"His name," I heard Jamie say, "is Quasimodo Frollo. We think he's Frollo's adopted son or nephew or something. Ugly as fuck, right?"

I stared at the picture for a second. He didn't look scary to me at all. He just looked really awkward, and actually, really terrified. He looked nervous, like someone that was scared about starting a new school. He looked somewhat like a lost puppy. Someone who just needed a friend.

I got a bit angry. How could my friends say those horrible things about him? "Where'd you get this picture?" I demanded, not looking up, focused on the fear in Quasimodo's eyes.

"Monica DeGiorno," Jamie replied, smiling cruelly. "She snapped a couple pictures while she could and sent them out to just about everyone in the twelfth grade."

I looked up, confused. "I thought that you guys hated Monica." Monica. Even her name sounded filthy.

Adrianna rolled her eyes and snorted. "We do," she said, "and we still think that she's the biggest whore in all of Jefferson county, but when she sends you a picture of the Hunchback of Notre Dame to laugh at and post all over Tumblr, Instagram, and Twitter, you have to thank her. You just have to."

Monica DeGiorno- head cheerleader, homecoming queen, part-time model. Wears ten pounds of makeup to school every day, dresses in the sluttiest outfits. Fifteen boyfriends, and that's only in high school. Has probably fucked all of them. Biggest and most annoying slut in Jefferson county. Doesn't know when to shut her damn mouth. What else can I say about her?

"He was all over Twitter this week!" Mobina said, giggling a bit. "Monica's picture of him got a few thousand retweets in a little under two days." Mobina stood up and took a seat on the couch, laying down and stretching out a bit. "I wouldn't be surprised if someone in China knew about him."

My eyes widened. Only his first week at school and he's being made fun of and abused on Twitter? That's horrible! "Are you kidding me? That's cruel!" I said, and the smiles on the girls' faces faded quickly. "Don't you guys feel bad about what you're saying! He's probably so ashamed of himself, the poor thing."

Jamie gave a weird chuckle "You feel sympathy for that monster? You're kidding, right Leslie?" She looked at me like I was insane, like I had just said something that made it obvious that I needed serious mental help.

"How is he a monster, Jamie? He never did anything to hurt anyone!" I was getting angrier now, so upset about the whole situation.

"Leslo, look at him! He's ugly as fuck!" Adrianna said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, slapping Jamie's iPhone out of my hands.

"Not really," I said, trying to get myself to calm down. "He looks so terrified in that picture." I paused, looking at my friends. They all looked shocked, but Adrianna looked completely and utterly disgusted. "You guys are going to kill me for saying this, but he looks like he needs a friend."

Jamie gasped, grabbing a large, fluffy pillow from the couch and slapping me with it. "Do you hear what you're saying!?" She stood up, standing right in front of me as if to intimidate me.

"Yes, I do," I said standing up and facing her. I was much taller than any of the girls, standing at around five foot seven, so any sign of Jamie trying to intimidate me was wiped away. She did, however, look disgusted with me, and started staring me down.

Adrianna stood up as well, coming in between us. "You need to fucking get a hold of yourself, Leslie Suburbs. It's probably all the ice-cream and soda getting to your head."

Mobina rolled her eyes from the couch, laying down and stretching herself out. "No more soda after midnight for you, okay?"

That was it. I just completely broke and snapped. "Guys, what you're saying is horrible!" I yelled, not caring if I woke my parents up. All I could think about was getting it through these girls' minds that Quasimodo didn't deserve to be spoken about this way. "Why hate on someone who just sits in the back of the classroom and never did anything to harm anyone?! I thought you three were sweet, I thought you were better than to do something like this! You guys are as horrible as Monica, you know that!?"

I ended my rant with a loud growl and got away from my friends as fast as I could, running upstairs and slamming the basement door behind me. I didn't have any time to see what their reactions were. I sat down in my mom's armchair and sighed, burying my face in my hands. Immediately, I felt terrible. Had I seriously just screamed at my friends over someone who looked innocent in a picture? My friends, who had been there for me through everything, had been yelled at by me over someone I'd never met.

What a jerk I was.

I heard the basement door open, and in walked Mobina, Jamie, and Adrianna. They looked shocked and a bit upset, as if they were angry at themselves now. I shook my head and leaned back in the chair, sighing.

"I'm sorry, guys, I got a little upset," I said, ashamed of what I had said. "Can we please just drop the subject and move on?"

Mobina smiled, nodding at me, shifting her position. "Yeah, sorry," she said, looking a bit annoyed at herself. "I guess we were being kind of cruel. But come on, Les-" She caught herself and stopped talking before she could say anything that would upset me. "Let's, um, focus on something else, okay?"

"No problem," Jamie said, leaning over and giving me a hug. Her hugs were warm and comforting, and always made me feel better. What would I do without my girls? "Sorry about, you know, everything, Leslo." She let go of me, and glared at Adrianna, who was holding the bag of popcorn and stuffing a handful in her mouth, "Hey, can you pop some more popcorn, Leslie? We're running out. This food whore over here is eating it all."

"I am not!" Adrianna sputtered, popcorn flying out of her mouth in the most disgusting way. I couldn't help but laugh, a piece flying right past my ear and almost hitting me.

I shook my head. "Says the bitch who's eaten half of my entire fridge in the past five hours."

She gave me a quick shove, and the room filled with the mixed laughter of Adrianna, Mobina, Jamie and I. It was a sound that I'd grown to love and a sound that always made me feel better. A sound that reminded me that I had friends who cared about me, people who I could rely on and make memories with. We'd always been there for each other, ever since seventh grade. What would I do without them?

"It's not my fault that I get hungry easily!" Adrianna yelled. "Don't fucking judge, it's not cool!"

I rolled my eyes, giggling like crazy. "Uh-huh. Sure."

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**AND end of chapter one! Wow, this was long. How did you guys like it?**

**Adrianna- Niall's coming in next chapter, don't worry. So will the fish-slapping thing (SIMS XD). And I'm sorry if I offended you with the food.**

**Jamie- Liam's coming in next chapter. ILY go on the X-FACTOR please. For me.**

**Mobina- Nicholas is coming in next chapter. And don't kill me for putting you in without permission. :)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews! Reviews are my favorite things ever besides those girls ^^^. PLEASE! I need to know what I can improve on, and what next chapter should consist of.**

**THANKS FOR READING! Chapter Two coming soon!**

**~Kelsi**


	2. The Football Team

**YAY! REVIEWS!**

**I would like to thank the three people that reviewed chapter one:**

**CharlieGreene**

**LexisTexas2000**

**Rose-Marie**

**Thanks so much, you guys!**

**I'd also like to thank Jamie and Adrianna for reading and giving such positive feedback on the story. Love you two!**

**I'd also like to thank Mobina for reading the chapter, even though it was "too long". I'm sorry for putting you second. Love you.**

**Oh, and guys, One Direction and Nicholas Hoult are in this story. Just so you know.**

**And this next chapter is kind of a filler chapter. I don't know, I came here to write out **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunchback of Notre Dame or any of the Disney characters mentioned in this story. I so desperately want to, though. :(**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nicholas Hoult.**

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**Chapter Two: The Football Team**

Unlike my three best friends, I am not pretty.

I'm tall- unbelievably tall, and I've always been this way. By the end of seventh grade I was five foot six, growing at about two to three inches every year. Now I'm five foot seven, and I'm not sure if I'm going to stop growing any time soon. (No, I don't play basketball). My dad says that it's good to be tall because you attract a lot of attention, but I'm not sure that the attention I've been attracting has been positive attention.

I'm stick thin, too. You can easily see my bones through my stick thin arms and calves, and my entire body looks like it will snap in half if I bend over. I don't have as many curves as the average woman does, just a slightly curvy waist and average sized boobs. I'm a toothpick. A pool noodle. A twig. I guess that's where the nickname 'Twiggy' came from, the name that basically the entire cheer squad and half the grade calls me. It's not a very positive name to me. I really hate my figure. I want to put some weight on my bones, but since I have such a high metabolism, that's impossible for me. Once, in seventh grade, I ate half of an entire ice cream cake, and what happened? I got taller. I didn't get fatter.

But even though I'm so thin, I'm over one hundred pounds because of my height. Monica DiGiorno would probably laugh at my weight. Um, news flash, bitch, being tall makes you heavier.

My hair is kind of a dull shade of blonde, which used to be almost white when I was in elementary school. My hair is very wavy and curls at the ends, reaching down to the middle of my shoulder blades. Some days it's all curly, some days it's all wavy. My hair can't make up its mind. My eyes are blue, but not the blue that you know is blue right off the bat. It's the kind of blue that looks green at first, and then you look at my eyes again and you'll know that they're actually blue. A kind of blue that looks green. I can't describe it any other way. Like Mobina and Adrianna, I wear glasses, mine are brown and rectangular. I look somewhat like a huge dork.

My friends keep telling me that I'm beautiful, but I don't see myself that way. I'll never see myself that way…

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September 16th. My sixth day of being a senior.

I walked through the main doors of the large, brown-bricked building, stepping into the main lobby. Many students had already gotten here, and were scattered about the room, talking with friends, listening to music, or doing homework that they should've done over the weekend. I scanned the room for a few seconds, then spotted Jamie, Adrianna, and Mobina standing in front of a display case towards the back of the lobby. Since the four of us lived only a few blocks from the school, we always tried to get here five to ten minutes early so we could socialize before homeroom (even though we all had homeroom together).

I walked up to them, squeezing myself in between Mobina and Jamie in the small circle that they'd made. "Morning, girls," I said, smiling.

"Top of the mornin' to ya, lassie," Adrianna said in a perfect Irish accent, smiling.

I rolled my eyes. "Did Niall teach you that?" I asked.

Adrianna smiled brighter. "Maybe."

"So, um, how'd everyone sleep?" I asked, trying to make conversation with the girls.

Mobina shrugged. "Alright. There was a huge party going on across the street from me, so I didn't get to sleep until, like, midnight."

"Oh my gosh, it kept you up too?" Jamie asked. "I heard it all the way from my block!" Jamie lives on Rose Lane, which, out of the streets that the four of us live on, is the furthest away from Notre Dame, but close enough that she has to walk to school every day.

"Yeah, same," I said. "I think that it was the Baxter's house. Those snobby rich people and their fancy parties!"

Adrianna sighed. "You know what? We should throw an obnoxiously loud party. Give them a taste of their own medicine. With alcohol and loud music and dancing and twerking-"

"Okay, if anyone starts twerking at this party, I'm leaving," I said, throwing my hands up. The girls started laughing, that familiar mixed-laughter ringing through the air.

_"Leslie Suburbs,_" Adrianna said. "You are the only person I know that cannot appreciate the art of twerking-"

Jamie started giggling like a madman. "Since when is sticking your butt out and shaking it rapidly an art?" She could barely speak through her intense laughter.

"Since I said so," Adrianna replied, leaning against the glass covering the various trophies and plaques that the wrestling and swimming teams have won. "But seriously, we need to throw a party, invite half the school."

"Hey, my parents are leaving town the week after Thanksgiving break," Mobina said, grinning like she was plotting an evil scheme. "And my house is pretty big. Maybe we can have a party there."

"Yeah, that sounds awesome!" said Jamie, growing more and more excited. "Your house is the perfect place for a party. I can see it now- loud music, liquor, intense dancing, a bunch of cute guys-"

Mobina started cracking up. "You wish, Jamie."

"Well, if we tell people that the party's going to be really good, then maybe hot dudes are gonna show up," I said, nudging Mobina and Jamie with my elbows. "Maybe Nicholas and Liam will show up."

Jamie gave a slow, dreamy sigh that said "I wish." "And even if he does show up, he would have to get beyond wasted to even want to talk to me."

"Come on, Jamie, you're gorgeous, of course he'll want to talk to you!" I said encouragingly.

"Jamie, really, you're not the Hunchback of Notre Dame, your looks don't ward people off," Adrianna said. I gave her a sharp glare, the memory of the argument we'd had a few nights before coming back to me. Adrianna ignored it and continued talking to Jamie. "No, you're attractive and downright hot."

"Okay, then why hasn't Liam ever come up to me and spoken to me before?" Jamie asked, looking a little upset.

"Maybe it's because he hasn't had the opportunity to talk to you," I told my friend, trying to be as supportive as possible. "You're not in any of the same classes, right?"

"True," Jamie sighed. She looked up at us with a weird air of determination. "I want this year to be the year, you know?"

"The year for what?" I had to ask.

"You know," Jamie replied, "the year where I make the most memories, accomplish things that I've always wanted to accomplish, get a big part of my bucket list checked off! I just want to do things, you know?"

I smiled and nodded, starting to understand what she was saying. She wanted to go crazy and make memories- after all, this was her last year of being in grade school, the last year before she turned eighteen and became an adult. This was probably the last chance that she had to do some of the things she's always wanted to do. And that was true for all four of us. Last chance. Why not take it while we can?

"And Liam Payne is one of those things that you want to do," Adrianna added softly. Mobina and I started laughing like wild as Jamie smacked Adrianna over the head with her purse.

"I do not!" she exclaimed over the laughter of Mobina and I. Her voice lowered immensely. "I just want to be his girlfriend, that's all. Kisses and hugs. That's it, okay?"

Adrianna rolled her eyes. "Sure, Jamie."

Liam Payne was a member of the football team, a serious hottie, and Jamie's crush. She's liked him ever since he transferred to Jefferson County in the seventh grade, and even though he's had a number of girlfriends since then, she's always claimed that she loves him. They've talked once or twice before, and I couldn't even say that they were acquaintances. She was a stranger to him, but he was everything to her. She refuses to let him go and move on.

"Ooh!" Mobina squealed, pointing towards the large doors at the other end of the lobby. "Speaking of Liam, here comes the football team!"

And in walks the eight hottest guys in the whole school.

Harry, Niall, Louis, Liam, Zayn, Nicholas, Paul, and Phoebus. Only eight of the twenty members of the Notre Dame High School football team. All of them are actually really attractive (well, duh, they're jocks, of course they're attractive), and I'm pretty sure that most of the girls in this school are crushing on one of them.

Harry is the captain of the football team, and the son of the coach. Messy brown hair, deep green eyes, muscular, tall- I have to admit, he's really attractive. Harry's single, but he's dated a number of girls in the school, even Monica DiGiorno for awhile. However, there are a bunch of rumors going around the school that he and Louis are in a secret relationship.

Louis has a girlfriend, though- a junior named Eleanor, member of the cheer squad, however there's a huge debate going on in the school as to whether or not the two are dating to cover up Louis and Harry's secret relationship. Want to know what I think? I think that people should spent their time thinking about other things. It's none of your business!

Then there's Zayn. A very cute and sweet guy, one of the most muscular and tough guys on the team (besides Harry and Paul). He's dating a junior named Perrie, who's on the cheer squad, and based on what I've seen in the halls and the photos on Instagram, their relationship is adorable.

Paul. Paul is the toughest and most muscular guy on the team. He's the tallest, and looks like he works out nonstop. He's kind of like the bodyguard for the rest of the football players, getting other girls to back off and getting jealous guys to keep their distance. If a couple members of the team were in a boy band, Paul would be their bodyguard. Paul is taken as well, by one of Monica's closest friends (more like henchwoman than friend), Gabriella.

I think that it's really stereotypical for the football players to only be dating girls on the cheer squad. Oh well. That's how Notre Dame High School works

Nicholas- oh boy, Nicholas. Mobina's crush. If you ask Mobina about Nicholas, she'll go on talking about him for hours. One night, I was up until two AM listening to Mobina talk about Nicholas on the phone. His "beautiful, midnight black hair", his "blue eyes that shine like diamonds", and his "irresistible smile". She's liked him since the middle of her sophomore year, and we're pretty sure that he's begun to like her as well. At least, that's what Adrianna thinks. "You can see it in his eyes when he looks at her," Unicorn once told me. I really have no clue what she means, since I'm bad at reading eyes, and I think that she's just saying it to be cute. But Adrianna's the only one out of the four of us who is in a relationship, and an adorable one at that, so she's the expert on these things and I'm going to assume that what she's saying is true.

Phoebus was one of the hottest guys on the team- long, golden hair, bright blue eyes, tall, muscular (and I admit that I had a slight crush on him for awhile when I was a sophomore)- but he is also one of the most powerful guys on the team. I hear that he's Vice Principal Frollo's "assistant", meaning that Phoebus monitors the halls and reports any crime he sees to Frollo. He's like Frollo's second pair of eyes, and a lot of people are afraid of him for it. If you ever want to find Phoebus, chances are he's patrolling the school looking for crime, or he's in two other places- the field behind the school or wherever Monica DiGiorno is, flirting with her. Phoebus is known to be a huge flirt, constantly sweet talking girls but never actually going steady with them. I think that that's a cruel thing to do, but whatever. Just another reason to avoid the football team at all costs.

Niall is probably the cutest guy on the team. He transferred to Notre Dame from Ireland in our sophomore year, and he has the most amazing Irish accent. Adrianna seemed to think that he was cute as well, because within the first month that Niall was here, they were dating, and I have to say, they're the most adorable couple I've ever seen. Niall is the only person on the football team to date someone who isn't on the cheer squad, and I thought that it was awesome. It was great to finally see two people going against the jocks-dating-cheerleaders stereotype. And I don't just like Niall and Adrianna together because of the stereotype. I like them together because they're an adorable couple. You can tell that they're in love by the way that they look at each other.

Out of the four of us girls, Adrianna is the only one who has had a successful relationship and has been with someone that she wants to spend the rest of her life with. Jamie's only had two boyfriends, both of which have broken her heart and caused her to hurt herself (we're saving that story for another time), Mobina has had one boyfriend (who she dumped after he cheated on her), and I've had five.

Five boyfriends. Five mistakes. Five heartbreaks. And I always wonder how Adrianna and Niall can have such a successful romance. I always wonder how anyone can have such a successful romance.

The jocks were talking to each other as they walked through the lobby, occasionally glancing around the room at the students that stood against the walls, staring at them. Most of the girls in the room looked at them dreamily, fantasizing about a romance that they would probably never have. Harry and Phoebus were looking around as if they were kings and everyone around them were peasants. Jocks. Most of the time, they acted like they owned the school. Technically, they did, along with the cheer squad, but that wasn't the point. Those football players can let that popularity go to their heads sometimes.

But they're not as bad as the cheer squad. The cheer squad is the group that abuses their popularity.

I saw Niall say something to Louis, then began to walk over to my friends and I. Adrianna beamed, standing up straighter and smoothing down the front of her yellow sundress. She always got excited around Niall, no matter where she was. The two had been dating for almost two years now, and her feelings for him have stayed the same ever since. His feelings for her have stayed the same as well. How is that possible?

Love is a very strange thing, and I'll never be able to understand it.

Niall approached us, stepping in between Adrianna and I and putting an arm around Adrianna's waist. She blushed, her smile only growing larger. "Hey, babe," he softly said to her, pulling her closer to him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Well, my neighbors were having a huge party last night," Adrianna explained in the same soft tone. "I couldn't fall asleep until around midnight. Baxters, I think."

Niall shook his head. "Damn Baxters. Think that they can have parties whenever they want. That's the thing about rich people. They think that they own the whole world. Don't give a damn about other people's need of sleep."

"You're telling me," I muttered, looking behind my shoulder at the group of football players, who were gathered by the far end of the room and were talking with each other about who the hell knows what. A group of stereotypical high school football players. Rich in popularity.

Niall looked up at Jamie, Mobina and I. "Mornin ', girls," he greeted us, smiling. He didn't smile at us like he smiled at Adrianna. He didn't smile at anyone like he smiled at Adrianna. It was like he had a special stare, smile, and laugh for Adrianna, something that was made out of his love that would only be put on his face for her. Or something like that. Hey, we're talking about love here- which, if you haven't noticed, I am no expert at.

"Hey, Niall," I greeted. "Um, how's the team doing?" Ladies and gentlemen, my awkward attempt to make conversation.

He sighed, beginning to speak, his Irish accent showing more than ever. "The Harry and Louis rumors are spreadin' like wildfire, Phoebus won't stop flirtin' with Monica, Zayn wants to propose to Perrie, and Nicholas told me that he's lookin' for a girlfriend-"

"Wait what?" Mobina said incredibly fast, taking a step up to Niall in excitement. Her hands were shaking and I swear that I could see her heart beating through her chest. She loved Nicholas, she really did, and now that he was looking for a girl, she was going to be like a jaguar about to pounce on her prey. I guess. Or maybe the other way around. She was the prey who wanted to get caught by the jaguar.

Niall shook his head and chuckled. He knew that Mobina liked Nicholas. Since he was basically Adrianna's soul mate, he was a part of our clique as well, and we knew that we could trust him with our secrets. Plus, Mobina's crush was obvious. You could tell by the way she talked about him, her eyes kind of lighting up, and the way she blushed whenever he was around her.

"The lad told me that he was lookin' for a gal," Niall explained, a smile appearing on Mobina's face and growing as Niall kept talking. "He says that he wants someone who isn't on the cheer squad, but is gorgeous enough to be. Someone with a great personality. I think he's lookin' for potential wives, or somethin'."

Mobina looked like she was about to explode with excitement, eyes shining so much that it was almost blinding. "And have you mentioned me to him?!" she almost shouted.

"Whoa, whoa, Mobina, calm your tits," Adrianna said, putting a hand on Mobina's shoulder. "Honestly, you look like you're about to explode."

Niall took a step back. "I have mentioned you once or twice," he said, Mobina shaking like a leaf. Gosh, she was a piece of work. "And I'm pretty sure he's keeping you in the back of his mind. I just hope he actually talks to you before he gives up and goes to the cheer squad."

_Before he gives up and goes to the cheer squad._ Usually when football players want a girlfriend, they search the selection of young women in their grade (or a grade below them). If they can't find anyone who might be a suitable girlfriend, they go over to the cheer squad and pick out the hottest single girl they can find on the team. A cheerleader will always say yes if a jock asks them out, no matter what. That was how it was, that was how it had always been, and that was how it would always be. Monica DeGiorno has dated every single person on the football team. Every single one. All of the seniors, and even a couple of last year's seniors.

Damn, she was a _busy bitch._

I rolled my eyes. "Niall, quick question, is Monica single?"

Niall snorted. "Yep. I guess she wants to keep herself single until the new juniors are put on the team." He shook his head. "Damn slut."

"Do we even have it confirmed that she's actually a slut?" Jamie asked. "I mean, yeah, she's had thirty something boyfriends, but has she-"

"We don't know," Niall replied. "We're just assuming, but it's in her prissy nature to do thirty guys."

I was about to open my mouth to speak, when suddenly the voices around us faded out quickly and a cold silence fell over the room. My friends' heads turned towards the door, and they were staring weirdly, as if something inhuman had just walked into the room. It was probably Monica. She usually gets this kind of silence when she enters the school, but not the stares. Maybe she had come in with a new boy-toy, or something.

I turned around, noticing that the each student had stopped what they were doing and turned to face the door. All eyes were staring, and most people began slowly moving to the back of the room, fearful looks on their faces, as if they were afraid of what had just walked in, frightened that it may hurt them.

And standing in the doorway, an ashamed look on his face, was Quasimodo Frollo.

**Is that a cliffhanger? I don't know. Maybe? Sorta? Kinda?**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews! Besides Jamie and Mobina and Adrianna, reviews are the best things ever. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So please, write out what you liked or disliked about the chapter, what I can improve on, ETC! I feel like this is my best fanfiction story yet!**

**Thanks so much for reading! BYEEEEEE!**

**~Kelsi**

**P.S: QuasimodoXLeslie is officially QUESLIE.**


	3. Quasimodo and Monica

**Hey, y'all! It's me. Sorry that this wasn't up sooner, I was out hiking with the family and some friends this afternoon.**

**Thanks for all the kind reviews on chapter 2!**

**SummertimeRose**

**CharlieGreene**

**Rose-Marie**

**And thank you to my friends who have read and gave positive feedback on the story:**

**Jamie the gorgeous**

**Mobina the amazing**

**Adrianna the awesome**

**You guys are awesome! (Review if you want to get noticed and mentioned!)**

**Well, not much I can say here. ONWARD TO THE CHAPTAR!**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Quasimodo and Monica**

Quasimodo looked even more frightened in real life, especially with a room full of people staring right at him. He seemed to be even more hunched over than he had been in the photo, his large hands shaking, green eyes darting around the room, as if he were looking for an escape. Nervousness and fear were strewn into his misshapen face. Well, if you had a room full of people staring at you, ready to make fun of you because of the way you looked, you'd be incredibly frightened as well.

Everyone around me was staring right at him with fearful and intense stares, stares that said, "You look scary and like you're going to hurt me, but at the same time you look like a freak of nature, so because of that I shall stare at you like this." The silence became heavy and awkward, like a thick cloud had covered the room and diminished all the noises. I could even hear Niall breathing, steady and slow. Even his breathing seemed focused on Quasimodo.

To everyone in the room, he looked like a monster.

To me, he looked like a frightened, hurt boy.

With all the attention he had been getting, in the school and on social media websites, I can't believe that I hadn't noticed him all last week. Maybe I was too wrapped up in my poetry to notice him walk into the French classroom. Maybe I just hadn't been checking my Twitter that often. Maybe I'd ignored Monica and what she was talking about that week. But even if I did all those things, how could I not have caught him walking in through the lobby? How could I not have seen him walking through a hallway with tens of eyes on him? This whole thing seemed very confusing. I thought that I would have seen him by now.

Quasimodo quickly looked around the room, desperate to find an escape from all the attention. About fifty to one hundred pairs of eyes were on him, staring in horror and in intimidation. Most people were looking at him in fear, afraid of the way he looked, but some, mostly boys, were standing there, arms crossed, cocky smiles on their faces, as if they were about to start laughing at him, as if they were trying to intimidate him and get him to leave the lobby. Quasimodo's eyes fell on the seven members of the football team that were standing just across the lobby from me. Each one of them had that smile on their faces, as if to say, "You're deformed and ugly, you'll never be as good looking and successful as us." Their rude looks only made Quasimodo look even more ashamed of himself. In fear, he quickly covered his face with his hands, as if to shield everyone from the way he looked. Oh, the poor thing! They were treating him like a bug under a microscope, examining every single deformed cell on his face and judging him for it.

He began walking, and I noticed that his walk was much different than normal. It was more like he was hobbling, his entire body shifting with every step. It was probably his hunched back weighing him down. Poor guy, having to go through his whole life looking like that. Everyone just kept staring cruelly, and I heard a couple chuckles from the football team.

"Let me ask you something, _Hunchback of Notre Dame,_" I heard a familiar, light, snobby voice ask.

All heads turned towards the middle of the lobby. Leaning against the doors to the auditorium was none other than the infamous Monica Casey DeGiorno.

She was Spanish, and very Spanish. She even had the Spanish accent. Apparently, that was attractive to a lot of guys. She was tall, around five foot six, and was thin, but curvier than I was and had more fat on her bones. She had the absolute perfect face shape, small nose, waxed eyebrows, thin lips, slightly pointed chin. Her skin was very tan, almost orange, as if she had gone to the beach a lot over the summer. Or she had just gone to a tanning salon. Her hair was light brown with some blonde highlights strewn into it, curly and wavy, like mine, except her hair went down to the ends of her shoulder blades. Monica loved wearing makeup, and she wore about five pounds of it every time she left the house. Foundation, concealer, eyeshadow (blue eyeshadow was the color she wore most often), loads of mascara, and a little blush. She wore so much makeup that you could barely see her face. Her eyes were big, hazel orbs, similar to the eyes of a cat, sharp and watchful. These eyes picked up everything that happened around the school, especially the drama. And all of that drama was put on her twitter account.

_ gossipqueenndhs_. Gossip queen Notre Dame High School. That was her name on Twitter. On her account, she tweeted about every little bit of drama that went on in the school. I've been on there probably ten times, five for getting a boyfriend, five for being dumped by my boyfriend. Gossip queen. It described her perfectly. I can only imagine how many tweets she's written about Quasimodo, who was currently probably the only thing that anyone was talking about nowadays.

Monica shook her head as Quasi took his hands off of his face and slowly looked up at her, legs shaking, eyes full of fear. My heart stopped. Monica was the most popular girl in school, and had the power to do and say terrible and humiliating things. I couldn't even imagine what she was about to say to a deformed, hunchbacked boy.

"_Why_?" she asked, her voice snobby and cruel and Spanish. "Why do you keep living each day knowing that you look like a monster?" I covered my mouth with my hand, shocked. This was the beginning of a cruel, shattering speech. She gave these a lot on Twitter, but never in school our outside of social media. Quasimodo must be at the top of her list that was titled, "Lives I'd Like To Ruin Before I Leave High School." I'm pretty sure that I was on that list as well.

Monica took a few steps forward. "Everyone stares at you like this every day. Can't you see that we all hate you and want you to get the fuck out of our high school?" My other hand clenched into a fist. "You're ugly as fuck and you scare people off. Even your name sounds ugly. Quasimodo. What the hell kind of name is that?" I started taking a few steps forward, but I felt Mobina and Niall's strong hands pull me back. They could tell that I was about to hurt someone.

"You'll never get a job, you'll never go anywhere in life. You'll stay right where you are, at the bottom of everything while we're all going to college and becoming successful." She looked over his shaking figure and chuckled. She was like a Disney villain.

"No one would ever want to become friends with you, and you'll never be loved by anyone. You'll never find a girl that would love you, or a soul mate, or anyone to even care about you! I bet your own mother doesn't love you!" Quasimodo tensed up, looking like he was about to fall over from shaking so much. Monica was laughing now, her cruel voice ringing through the air. Niall and Mobina were struggling to keep me from running up to her and punching her.

"Why do you still want to exist?" she asked, her laughter calming. "Why don't you just _kill_ yourself already?"

"Monica, no one_ asked_ what the whole student body thinks of you!"

I spat out the words before I even knew what I was thinking, trying to lunge forward with the girls and Niall all holding me back. I was struggling to get out of their grasp. All I wanted to do was strangle Monica and fuck her up. How could she say such cruel things to someone who hasn't done anything to her!? This was horrible, and I had to put a stop to it. To everything. I hadn't said a single word to Quasimodo, and I was already defending him as if he were my best friend. I was a stranger to him. I was just another face in the crowd of people that were staring at him cruelly as he walked into the building, and I had stood up for him like I'd known him my whole life.

Every eye in the room was on me, shocked that I'd even had the nerve to stand up to the gossip queen of Notre Dame High School. Monica looked straight at me with a shocked expression. An expression that said "I really don't believe that you just said that, so for that reason I will stare at you". She started walking up to me, silver high heels clicking on the floor, completely pushing Quasimodo out of the way. He stumbled over and fell to the ground, able to break his fall with his hands before he hit his head on the floor. He lay on the cold ground and watched as Monica approached me, lips only inches from mine, sharp cat eyes glaring into mine.

"_What_ did you just say, you little whore?" she whispered, hands clenched into fists.

Many had been in this situation before, with Monica inches from them, staring them down after they said something insulting to her. Most had quickly apologized and ran away, scared of her power. But I wasn't one to go down without a fight. This was my opportunity to tell this bitch everything I thought about her. "Monica, I am _sick_ of you walking around with your stupid Twitter account and judging people as if you run the school!" I exclaimed, causing her to step back. It took all of Niall's strength to keep me from lunging at her and breaking her neck. "You're head fucking cheerleader, so what? That doesn't make you better than anybody else! And you especially don't have the right to tell someone to kill themselves! What has this poor boy done to hurt you? Nothing! So why are you talking to him like that? Huh? Tell me! You've got _some_ nerve, you little _slut_!"

I saw Quasimodo out of the corner of my eye. He was on the floor, shaking with fear, eyes wide with shock. And he was looking right at me. I gave him a quick and subtle wink before turning back to Monica, who looked shocked and completely insulted, hands shaking with defeat.

Suddenly, her fearful expression changed to one of confidence, and she brushed her hair out from in front of her shoulder. She was smiling. A cruel smile. "_Excuse me_, bitch," the gossip queen began, "but I have to correct you on that one. You're the one who's banged five guys and_ I'm_ the slut?"

My eyes widened with shock._ Slut._ A word that apparently meant a person who's had five boyfriends. Unfortunately, that wasn't all it meant. Monica was good friends with two of my exes, Andrew Gussia (my first boyfriend who I dated when I was a freshman), and Emmett Lester (my third boyfriend). And they had managed to convince her that I had had sex with each of my boyfriends, especially Andrew, who was one of Monica's closer friends. I bet that they'd had sex as well once or twice.

How dare she even _assume_ that I was anything but a virgin! That slut believed every single rumor that she heard, or at least most of them. And me being a slut was one of the biggest rumors. A rumor that caused me to lose one of my closest friends, but we'll get to that part later. "Oh_, no_! We are _not_ doing this again, Monica DeGiorno!" I exclaimed, trying not to let her change the subject. "I am a virgin, and you _know_ it!"

"_Really_?" she asked, a familiar cocky smile on her face. "That's not what Andrew Gussia told me."

I gave a low, menacing growl, breaking out of Niall's grasp and standing in front of Monica, ready to "Well you can tell Andrew Mathlin that he's a fucking _liar_!" Yep, I had even gone as far as to curse, something that I didn't normally do. This wasn't about Quasimodo anymore. It was about Monica insulting me.

She ignored me and went on, twirling her hazel colored hair in between her fingers. "He told me that you banged him and you _loved_ it." She chuckled, looking right into my eyes, which were probably full of anger and rage. "You loved it so much that you couldn't help but have sex with each of the four other guys you dated-"

That was it. I couldn't contain my anger. "I AM A VIRGIN AND ANDREW MATHLIN IS A FUCKING LIAR!" I screamed loud enough for the entire building to hear, shoving her as hard as I possibly could. The shove only made her take a few, clumsy steps back, and she laughed menacingly.

"My _God_, Twiggy, you sure are weak," she chuckled, regaining her balance quickly. "A _third grader_ could have knocked me over with a shove like that. Must be your scrawny little figure."

I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders, and saw Adrianna standing next to me, looking angry and defensive. I smiled to myself, knowing that she'd always be there when I needed help. Even when it came to the gossip queen of Notre Dame High School. "_Monica DeGiorno_, you can't call someone else a slut when you're the one-"

"_Don't_ you get involved in this, Adrianna Jenner!" Monica exclaimed, giving Adrianna a death stare and a hard poke in the shoulder. "This is none of your fucking business and you know that!"

Mobina stepped up to my other side, smiling victoriously. "Yes it is! You mess with Leslie, you mess with us!" Jamie stepped next to Mobina, and Niall next to Adrianna. Us five against Monica was an even match, maybe we were even a bit weaker than she was. However, this wasn't a victory yet.

Monica crossed her legs and then uncrossed them, smiling sweetly. "Oh, how _cute_, Twiggy!" she said as if she were talking to a kindergartner, tilting her head to the side. "You have a cute little army to stand up for you!"

Niall gave her a sharp stare. "I could say the same thing for you and your cheer squad, Monica DeGiorno!" he exclaimed, his voice loud and defensive.

Adrianna stood up straighter, confidence showing. "As I was _saying_, Monica DeGiorno, you can't call someone else a slut when you're the whore who's had the penises of _every_ member of the Notre Dame High football team in the_ disease ridden void_ that you call a _goddamn_ vagina!" Her tone of voice was defensive and cocky, like she had had complete faith in what she'd said. There were a bunch of _'ooh's_ going around the room as people began to move in closer to get a better look at what was going

Monica gasped, stepping back. She looked insulted beyond belief. "Bitch, I _never_!" she said in an airy tone of voice.

Jamie smiled in victory. "Well, now you have, slut."

Monica shook her head, as if to shake off the insulted feelings from her expression. The cocky smile returned to her face. The gossip queen of Notre Dame High School never went down without a long fight. "_Fine_, you four can be in this little blood feud," she said, looking at each one of us. "And, by the by, you mess with me, you mess with the seven other members of my cheer squad."

Monica snapped her fingers, and seven girls that were standing where Monica had been started walking towards the head cheerleader, each of them giving Quasimodo a sharp kick in the side before standing behind their captain. They were the seven other members of the Notre Dame High School cheerleading squad, the prettiest and prissiest girls in the school. All seniors and juniors. Tryouts were tomorrow, or so I had been told, and four new sophomores were going to be joining the team. Four new girls that would be brought into a world of popularity and prissiness. Lucky us.

The two girls that stood on either side of Monica were Danielle and Gabriella Kramer, twins that had been Monica's best "friends" since elementary school (more like henchwomen than friends), who could always be found around Monica and supporting whatever she did. Both of them had the same style of curly, chocolate brown hair, except Gabriella's was a bit blonder than Danielle's. They both had tanned skin, blue eyes, and a slender figure. Besides the hair, you couldn't tell them apart. If Monica was the gossip queen, then they were the gossip princesses.

Danielle smiled wickedly, maybe even more intimidating than Monica's smile. "You better run off, _bitches_," she said in her light, prissy tone. "Be careful, though, because revenge is gonna be following you behind."

My hands clenched into fists, and I couldn't help from screaming. This was more than Quasimodo. This was about me as well and me being a so called "slut". This was quickly turning into something insulting and big. "In_ hell_ it will!" I screamed.

"_Twiggy Suburbs_," Monica began, a huge rage welling up inside the pit of my stomach. "Let me tell you something. You are a slut. Always have been, always will be, and I know that I can trust Andrew to tell me the truth." She smiled in a cruel way, and I just wanted to cut her open and watch her bleed. "You're probably gonna get a job as a dirty _prostitute_, you whore-"

Something inside me snapped. And I did something that I'd wanted to do for years.

I punched Monica DeGiorno in the face with all my might.

She stumbled backwards, clutching her nose which I had impacted. My knuckles were red. Never in my life had I punched someone that hard. Never in my life had I even punched someone. Her eyes were full of absolute shock and pain. And then, her look turned to one of absolute anger. She looked angrier than I'd ever seen her before, and that was a bad sign. You never wanted to get Monica Casey DeGiorno, aka the Gossip Queen of Notre Dame High School, angry at you. She had so much power, and was able to do terrible things to you.

And then, she removed her hand from my face and punched me back. Hard. Right in the nose. Who knew that cheerleaders had such hard punches? My entire face stung with pain, every cell in my nose on fire. I yelped in pain, falling back, but Adrianna and Mobina were able to catch me before I hit the floor. It hurt like hell, my face buzzing with pain, screaming for relief. And my knuckles were pleading to have another go at Monica's face. I had to punch her again. I had to get back at her. I had to make her pay for what she'd done.

I quickly stumbled to my feet, full of anger and pain. "BITCH!" I screamed, ready to punch.

"SLUT!" she yelled, fist about to impact me as well. This was going to end up being a catfight, and would not end well.

"What on Earth is going on here?!"

Monica and I quickly dropped our fists, heads turning towards the sound of the voice. Standing at the end of the lobby, glaring at us with his gray, sharp eyes, was Old Dagger Eyes- Vice Principal Frollo.

I was afraid as soon as I realized that he was standing there. His wrinkled, pointed face, long nose, and tall figure seemed even more intimidating than usual, maybe because I was the one causing the trouble this time. His dagger like eyes glared right at me, and I felt it. The stabbing feeling in my chest, the room getting colder. Students began getting the hell out of there, running and walking to their classes, trying to get as far away from Frollo as possible. Wasn't it just _wonderful_ that I was being a hypocrite and had attracted Frollo's attention, even though I'd constantly been telling myself and others that that was the worst thing to do in this school?

The first thing I thought was,_ 'Oh, shit. I'm gonna get expelled.'_

Adrianna, Mobina, Jamie, and Niall stayed, and in a few seconds the cheer squad, the football team, my friends, and Quasimodo were the only people left in the lobby. As soon as Frollo steps into a room, it's empty. I saw Quasimodo out of the corner of my eye, slowly getting to his feet, looking at Frollo so uncomfortably. That was odd. Wasn't Quasimodo Frollo's son or nephew or something? Maybe Frollo was even worse in private and Quasimodo was used to this menacing side of him. I made it a mission to figure that out.

However, Monica didn't seem to be as afraid of speaking to Old Dagger Eyes as I was. "It was all _her_, Vice Principal Frollo!" she exclaimed in a fearful tone of voice, and I stepped back in shock, my head spinning with pain and heart racing. She was an amazing actress. "She was the one that started this! She called me a slut, and she called one of my friends a liar!-"

I couldn't keep my thoughts in. "She's lying, sir!" I told the Vice Principal truthfully, surprised that I was able to even open my mouth in front of Frollo. "She was telling Quasimodo to go kill himself and I-"

Monica turned to me and snorted. "That's the most untrue thing I've-"

"Oh, shut up, you little-"

_"SILENCE!"_

Frollo's roaring, ear shattering yell caused me to shiver and jump, sending shivers down my spine. His stare was more cold and sharp, and it felt like a knife was making light cuts all across my face. It stung like hell, and I could almost feel the blood coming out. The entire cheer squad yelped and huddled together, as if to shield themselves from Frollo's wrath. Adrianna had buried her face in Niall's chest, Niall's strong arms wrapped around her. Jamie and Mobina were both backed against the wall, hands up, as if to say, "We had no part of this." And Quasimodo was shaking like a leaf at the other end of the room. The area suddenly became much colder, as if we were outside on a chilly fall morning. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my hands were shaking out of my control. It was as if Frollo was using his powers of ice and darkness to make the world colder. I was more afraid than I'd ever been in my entire life.

Frollo's angered expression faded, and he sighed as if to let out the furious air inside of him. He looked right at me, and I could feel the knives more than ever. They were cutting me less now, the flat part running against my forehead, but they were there. "Miss _DeGiorno_, Miss_ Suburbs_, in my office,_ now._" He paused, giving Quasimodo a sharp glare. "You too, _Quasimodo_."

Quasimodo, still shaking a bit, took a few steps towards Frollo. "_Y-yes,_ m-master."

The entire cheer squad gasped. Monica's eyes widened. I heard Adrianna mutter, "Told you so," to Niall.

He had called Vice Principal Frollo 'master'.

I was still thinking about everything that had happened as Monica and I walked up to Frollo, who had turned around and was beginning to walk to his office just a few yards away from here. Monica had told Quasimodo to kill himself. I had defended Quasimodo by insulting Monica. Monica and I kept calling each other 'slut' and 'bitch'. Monica punched me, and I punched her back. Now we were on our way to Vice Principal Frollo's office.

I was going to get suspended for this, maybe even expelled. Hopefully, I wouldn't end up like Edward Finchel and get whipped. If I was lucky, I'd just get detention. But I was most likely going to get suspended. My head was spinning with stress and the pain from Monica's punch. I felt as if I was going to pass out right then and there. Luckily, I was able to make it to Frollo's office without collapsing.

I'd never been to Frollo's office before. I was shaking. Either I would die from getting whipped, or my dad would kill me as soon as he heard the news and got home from work. Either way, there was no chance that I would survive.

* * *

**And that's the chapter! I wonder what will happen next? Will Leslie get suspended? Will Monica have her revenge? Will Quasimodo really take what Monica said to heart? Find out next chapter, coming very very soon!**

**Please review! Reviews are the things that keep me going. I won't post a chapter until I have reviews. So please, if you haven't reviewed yet, please do! It really would mean a lot to me :)**

**Byeeeeee!**

**~Leslie**


	4. Suspended and Grounded

**THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS OMG!**

**LexisTexas2000**

**CityCat**

**CharlieGreene**

**And to my three best friends, Jamie, Mobina, and Adrianna, for being perfect and for reading.**

**All of you guys are amazing and awesome and such great readers and reviewers :)**

**Sorry that this chapter took longer than usual to get up. Here's chapter 4!**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Suspension**

_ gossipqueenndhs_ has 5 new tweets!

" writes42 stood up for the #hunchbackofndhs this morning and insulted me beyond belief. What the fuck? Why the hell would anyone help that monster?"

" writes42 and her posse got into a fight with my girls and I, sprained my nose, both of us suspended for today and tomorrow. Full story on my Tumblr:_ . _"

"Cheer tryouts are being held on Wednesday instead of Tuesday. I apologize to the cheer team and the girls trying out, but I was suspended thanks to this twig: writes42."

"The hunchback of NDHS called VP Frollo 'master' today! Frollo says that the hunchback is his adopted son, and it normally calls him that. More like a slave than a son. #hunchbackofndhs"

" writes42 No one sprains my nose + gets me suspended and gets away with it that easily. Revenge is on its way, dirty bitch. #watchyourback"

* * *

After Frollo was able to get the whole story on what happened, Monica trying to lie about it but ended up having to confess that she was the one that had told Quasimodo to kill himself first, and we received our punishments: Monica and I were both suspended for the rest of the school day and the entire day tomorrow, and Quasimodo- well, I had no clue what happened to him. He couldn't have gotten punished for just walking into the school. But you didn't know Frollo. He can punish someone for no reason at all and get away with it.

I wasn't whipped, thank God Almighty, and I wasn't hurt in any way by being around Frollo. He just asked me a few questions, typed away on his laptop, and told me (in a slightly harsh tone), that I was going to be suspended for the rest of the day and all of tomorrow, and that they were going to be calling my mother to pick me up. And that's when I got scared.

My mother works as a lunch lady at the elementary school I used to go to, which is just two blocks from our house. She could very easily be contacted and come pick me up. This was bad. I had gotten into trouble before, but never had I ever punched a girl in the face at school, or gotten suspended, or had to have my mom pick me up from school to take me home because of me causing trouble. This was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Mom was a very sweet woman, she'd never gone so far as to hit me or use physical punishment, even when I purposely punched my brother in the face three summers ago. She and dad were fuming, but mom didn't hit me. Mom had just harshly scolded me in her weirdly sweet voice, even shouting a bit. My brother was hurt almost severely, and the hospital bill cost us a fortune, so of course she yelled, but she didn't hurt me. She'd never hurt me.

Well, maybe today that would change. Maybe. If she didn't kill me, then dad definitely will. Chances were that mom had already texted dad and told him everything that she had heard, and I'd be receiving a huge talking to, with hints of yelling, maybe even a dash of shoving mixed into the dish. Either that, or just a smack to the face. I'd been spanked before when I was little, but I'd never been actually hit anywhere but my bottom. Well, dad would most likely hurt his perfect little future valedictorian for getting suspended from school and severely hurting my chances of being the one to give the graduation speech.

Dad expected me to have perfect grades, and I was currently kind of aiming to be the valedictorian. It was something huge that dad wanted for me, and I'd probably never achieve it, since my grades were only in the high nineties and there were plenty of other students smarter than I was, but now I definitely wouldn't receive that title. Suspension from school can really mess up your records. And dad was probably really pissed at me for even thinking about punching another student, no matter what they said to me.

When mom came to pick me up, Monica had already left with her older brother (who I'd expected to be hot but was far from it, completely disappointing me), and I was the only one sitting in the main office besides the women at the desks at the other end of the room. Mom came in, deep brown hair with streaks of white and gray up in a messy clip, wearing an oversized t-shirt and black sweatpants. She looked like she had just gotten ready to go to work (which didn't start until around ten AM, and it was only around eight thirty). Mom was fifty five years old, and it was then, right as she was walking into the school to pick me up because I'd gotten suspended, that I noticed the darkness of the wrinkles drawn into her light but tanned, splotchy skin. They seemed much heavier today, and I noticed that some new ones had appeared around her eyes. I was able to infer that new wrinkles formed on her skin when she was under stress- and if she had just gotten a call from the school saying that her angel of a daughter, who never got into trouble at all, was being suspended for two days because she punched another student, then she was under a lot of stress.

Note to self: Don't have kids. When you have kids, they go to school. When they go to school, they stand up for hunchbacks who are told to kill themselves by the head cheerleader. When they stand up for hunchbacks who are told to kill themselves by the head cheerleader, the head cheerleader gets pissed. When the head cheerleader gets pissed, she calls your kid a slut. When she calls your kid a slut, your kid punches her in the face. When your kid punches her in the face, your kid gets suspended. When your kid gets suspended, you get angry. When you get angry, you get stressed. And when you get stressed, you get wrinkles. Don't get wrinkles. Don't have kids. It's simple logic, really.

Without saying a single word to me, mom signed me out and walked out of the building with me by her side. Her solid, angered expression, now containing more wrinkles than I remembered it having, told me that she was going to start yelling at me as soon as we got into the car. Her eyes were focused on the door, focused on getting out of the school. Even though she wasn't looking right at me, I knew that that look was directed towards me. She looked furious, focused, and embarrassed. I don't blame you, mom. I would be as well, if I didn't know the full story about what I'd done and why I'd done it.

We left the building, the sun hidden by those early autumn clouds that cool everything down. The weather was a bit chilly, but not chilly enough to start wearing long sleeves and sweatshirts. That was probably why I was still wearing shorts and t-shirts, like I had all summer. Luckily, the car was parked a few yards from the main entrance, so we didn't have to keep walking in that awkward silence. Mom unlocked the car with the press of a button on her keys, face stone hard and not moving, and we got in, her sitting in the pilot seat and me sitting shotgun.

I shut the door and leaned back in my chair, sighing. Mom's face turned right towards me, giving me the same stone cold look she'd had on her way out of the school. Now that she was staring right at me, it looked much scarier. I was able to examine every single angered patch of skin. Oh, God, she was pissed off at me.

"I can not believe that you'd do something like that," she said, her voice more stressed and raged than I'd ever heard it before. "You'd better have a good _damn_ reason why you punched that girl, Leslie, because this is_ unacceptable!_ I thought that I raised you to be better than this! Getting into fights? When your father comes home, there will be hell to pay-"

"Mom, I know that you're mad at me, but can I _please_ explain why I punched her!?"

Mom leaned back in her seat, shutting her eyes and exhaling slowly. Her nails were digging into the sides of the steering wheel, and she looked like she was about to explode with fury at any moment. "Fine," she said, opening her eyes and looking up at the ceiling of the car. "But this had better be good, or you're in for a load of trouble, Leslie Diana Suburbs."

* * *

By the time I finished telling mom what had happened in the lobby just a half hour before, we were pulling up to the street opposite mine. I made sure to tell my mom exactly what had occurred- every word that was said, every move that was made, and every insult that was spat out. I even told mom every single word that Monica had said to Quasimodo, making sure to explain to my mom who Quasimodo was before starting the story. As soon as I had ended with, "And then Frollo told me that I was getting suspended for punching another student, you picked me up, and here I am," mom started speaking.

"Leslie, I understand that you were trying to stand up for Quasimodo," she said slowly, like she was thinking hard about each individual word before she said it. "But I think that you could have done it in a way that wasn't insulting to Monica-"

"Mom, I'm sorry, it was the first thing that came out of my mouth, the words were out before I could even think about what I was saying!" I exclaimed, turning to my mother. Her eyes were locked on the road, her lips pressed together tightly, making sure that she didn't accidentally say anything rude to me.

"Well, that was what started this whole fiasco," she said, shaking her head at me. "You have to think before you speak, Leslie Diana-"

"It was an accident!-"

"Leslie, I am speaking. Now, your second problem was continuing to talk to Monica in such an insulting way, knowing that she was going to retaliate and say something insulting back to you!"

I covered my face with my hands. "It was the first thing that I could think of saying, mom. I just had to put her in her place! She told that poor boy to go kill himself, the least I could do was-"

"The least you could do?" mom asked in a shocked tone. We were pulling up to our house now, a light blue, two-story home (not including the attic and basement) where I'd lived my entire life. "Leslie, insulting her and yelling at her like that was the most you could do, maybe you even went a little too far by calling her a- a bad word!" One thing that you should know about my mom- she never curses, no matter what, not even if she has to repeat it to someone to tell a story. "You should have just walked away from Monica and left it at that, but instead, you chose to stick around and tell her everything that you felt about her."

We pulled into the driveway, mom turning off the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt, turning to me before we left the car. "Look, Leslie. I know who Monica DeGiorno is. I've seen her Twitter account, I know what she's doing, and I know exactly what kind of person she is. I went to high school with her mother, Carla, who is the biggest brat I've ever met by far, and I can't imagine that Monica is anything but the same. I know what it's like to be around those people, how all you want to do is insult them and tell them all the rude things you think about them, but getting into a fist fight was far too much. I understand, Leslie, and believe me when I saw that I'm beyond furious at Monica for keeping you there and insulting you like that. You made a huge mistake this morning, and you'll have to pay the price for it. Grounded for the rest of the month-"

"Are you serious!?" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up. "Mom, that's completely unfair! I was standing up for someone, I didn't mean to say those things, and she called me a whore-!"

"I understand all those things, Leslie," she said, calm as she'd been since she picked me up from school, "but you were the one who stayed there and chose to insult her. And it was your own choice to punch her in the face-"

"Mom! She said that I would work as-"

"I don't want to hear it, Leslie! Grounded until October first, and I'll be taking your phone, iPod, and computer away as well."

She gave a dramatic sigh, throwing the car door open and getting out. I sat there in shock for a few seconds. Grounded!? No iPod?! No phone!? No computer!? That was like taking away water and air away from me. I'd die! I'd shrivel up on the ground and die! Oh, this wasn't good! I'd miss my friend Carrie's birthday party, I'd miss my brother's girlfriend's sweet sixteen-

I practically flung myself out of the car and ran after mom, pulling my backpack over my shoulder. "Wait!" I said as she put her keys in the white front door. "I- I can still go to Christy's sweet sixteen, right?!" I was freaking out. There were some things that I'd miss that were very important to me. Parties, nights out with the girls, wi-fi- I was doomed!

"Absolutely not," mom said, pushing the door open. I was met with the familiar smell of cats and warm laundry. "Grounded means grounded, young lady." She shut the front door before either of our two cats could try and get out of the house. When they do manage to get out, we can never get them back in. They run around the yard and they won't try and come back in for hours.

"Mom!" I groaned. "You know how much that that means to me! Christy is one of my good friends, I can't-"

"You should have thought about that when you punched Monica," mom said, walking down the short hallway into the kitchen. She put her clunky, black purse down on the counter and opened the fridge, taking out a water bottle and taking a few gulps, as if to cool down the fire of anger that had built up inside her as she was driving to the school to pick me up.

"How- how about Carrie's party at her dad's nightclub?"

"Nope."

"Sleepover night at Jamie's?"

"Uh-uh."

I sighed, starting to freak out. At this rate, I'd miss everything in my schedule for September! This was horrible! No wi-fi, no parties, no hanging out with the girls- I gasped. There was one thing I was missing. I followed mom into the living room, watching as she collapsed into her worn down, green plaid armchair, pressing the water bottle to her forehead. "Not even Topsy Turvy Day?!"

Mom looked up, her facial expression quickly changing from exhausted to confused. "What in the world is Topsy Turvy Day?"

"It's the school festival at the end of the month, mom," I explained. "Everyone just calls it Topsy Turvy Day."

Here at Notre Dame High School, we have something called Topsy Turvy Day, which is basically a huge festival at the end of the first month of school. It's right after school on the last Friday of September, and at the festival there's shops, music, dancing, singing, food- it's basically a huge celebration of the beginning of the school year. The students run the whole thing, which is why it's called 'Topsy Turvy' Day, since the adults are usually the ones running events like that. There have been a lot of nicknames for it over the years, but the newest and most popular nickname for it is 'The Feast of Fools', something that the football team made up when I was a sophomore that has stuck like glue ever since.

But this year, Mr. Trouillefou, my wacky but entertaining Social Studies teacher who helps the students put together the event every year, asked me if I wanted to sing a song at the festival. I was ecstatic and immediately said yes. I didn't know that he knew about my singing talent! I was a member of the school chamber chorus (which is sort of an advanced chorus for the best senior chorus students), and I've been in the school play for the past few years (in eighth grade, I was Mrs. Banks in 'Mary Poppins', and I've been part of the ensemble in the high school musical since my freshman year, aiming for a lead this year). Maybe Mrs. Tiara, the chorus teacher, had recommended me to him. If it turned out that I couldn't sing at the event, I'd probably throw a fit and break down crying.

Mom paused for a second, thinking about it. She knew about Topsy Turvy Day, she knew about me having been asked so sing there. There was no reason why I couldn't go to a school-run event, especially something that everyone, even the cheerleaders and football players, looked forward to every year. "Fine," she said, and I gave a huge smile.

"Thanks so much, mom!" I replied, bending over and giving her a quick hug. When it came to my performances, mom was very encouraging, never letting me miss a summer chamber chorus rehearsal or a talent show, even though she and I both knew that I'd never have a real career in singing. No, I had something else in my mind for my future, but we'll come back to that very soon.

She replied by giving me one of her two second smiles, a bit of happiness on her face that only remained for a moment, then faded into a frown or a look of anger. "I want those electronics right now, Leslie Diana. I mean it." She crossed her arms grumpily to prove her point, and I sighed. "Of course, mother," I replied, turning around and trudging up the stairs to my room, where most of my electronic devices where, specifically my iPod, computer, and Nintendo 3DS.

As soon as I'd reached my room, met with the familiar, cheery, bright yellow paint on the walls, I lunged forward and grabbed my iPod off of my unmade bed, unlocking the device with lightning speed and opening Kik, the messaging application that my friends and I had been using for the past few months now. In the words of my brother, Kik was like texting for people who couldn't afford to pay the phone bill or were too afraid to ask for people's numbers. With only the tap of my thumbs on the screen a few times, but I disagree. You don't see guys going up to girls in bars and saying, "Hey, babe, can I have your Kik username?"

I went to my contact list, selected Adrianna, Mobina, and Jamie's usernames, and sent them all the same message:

**_Hey girls. Mom grounded me until October for getting suspended. I'll be at Topsy Turvy Day though. No sleepovers or hanging out or anything. Sorry L Have to turn my electronics in too. I'll talk to you guys on Wednesday. Bye J P.S: SOS! SOS! D:_**

* * *

Throughout the morning, my thoughts kept bringing me back to the words that Quasimodo had said to Frollo. Just two words, and they'd made me think long and hard. "Yes, master." Could Adrianna have been right about Frollo having hunchbacked slaves to whip the students who misbehaved? Quasimodo did seem very strong. Oh, was I kidding? That was impossible! The whole Edward Finchel incident was just insane, and there was no possible way that Frollo could have physically harmed a student and actually gotten away with it. So why did Quasimodo call Frollo 'master'? It wasn't like he was Frollo's slave or anything. After all, Quasimodo has Frollo's last name. He's his son or nephew, right? No, that can't be true. As far as Monica's twitter account tells me, Frollo isn't married and he doesn't have any siblings. So how does Quasimodo have the last name 'Frollo'? Is Quasimodo the adopted son that Frollo hid from the world and never wanted anyone to know about? Did Frollo divorce his wife and was left with their baby? Monica's twitter account told me that Quasimodo was Frollo's adopted son, and Quasimodo normally called him that, but it seemed a little odd how your adopted son was calling you "master" and not "dad", or even "sir". I was beyond confused about the whole situation, and couldn't stop thinking about it. I'd have to talk to Quasimodo about it, ask him to tell me what he knows. But it wasn't like Quasimodo was going to tell me everything without even knowing my name. I'd have to get to know him, become friends with him, gain his trust.

But did I really want to become friends with Quasi just to figure out how he has Frollo's last name?

Yes and no. It was then that I decided that I wanted to become Quasimodo Frollo's friend, not just to learn about what he has to do with Frollo, but because he really needs a friend. Quasimodo was the outcast of the school, who was mocked and bullied by everyone around him because of the way he looked. I was the one that had stood up for him, probably the only person that wasn't bothered by his looks, so I definitely should be the one to talk to him and befriend him. Beneath the awkward appearance, he seemed like a very nice guy, and all I had to do was start talking to him to get to know that nice guy. I would probably be talked badly about for the rest of my high school life, laughed at and shit-talked by Monica and most of the students, but I really didn't care. That happened to me anyway. At least Quasimodo will have someone to defend him and stand by him. He'll have a friend. Me.

It felt very good that I was the one person in this world that wanted to befriend Quasimodo Frollo.

* * *

**And that's the chapter! Thanks so much for reading, and please, if you don't mind, leave a review in the little white box below! It really helps me find out what my readers think of my writing and what they want to see in my stories.**

**Thank you! Chapter 5 coming VERY soon!**

**~Kelsi**


	5. Lunch Break

**Sorry for taking so long, but we are back and in business! This chapter is kind of a filler, and was kind of a bitch to write. I got a lot of writer's block towards the middle. I don't know.**

**THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS!**

**CharlieGreene**

**CityCat**

**xxxMadameMysteryxxx**

**SummertimeRose**

**LexisTexas2000**

**Not much else I can really say. HERE'S CHAPTER 5, and this one is a long one as well.**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Lunch Break**

The clock read 12:17. Mom had left for work a little over two hours ago, and I was home alone, slouching on the cool, leather couch in the living room. I had been surfing through channels earlier, and came across one of my favorite movies, Les Miserables, which I was currently watching as I stuffed large spoonfuls of peanut butter into my mouth. I'd much rather be here than at school, but I still regretted getting expelled. I'd have to deal with my dad's punishment later, which was going to be much worse than my mom's.

On the wide television, Eponine walked down the streets of Paris in the rain, singing beautifully about imagining that the man she loved was right beside her, walking with her. I smiled, singing along with the character on the screen. This song was called 'On My Own', and it was my favorite song from the movie, by far. I knew all the lyrics, all the notes to the piece.

**On my own**  
**Pretending he's beside me**  
**All alone**  
**I walk with him 'till morning**  
**Without him**  
**I feel his arms around me**  
**And when I lose my way, I close my eyes**  
**And he has found me**

I could definitely relate to this song. Whenever I had a crush on someone, I'd close my eyes and imagine that they were right beside me. I'd fantasize about walking with them, and whisper words of love them, knowing that they weren't really there. My fantasizing about them grew much worse when I was actually became their girlfriend. I'd imagine us kissing, laughing, and I'd always think about what the situation would be like if he was in it. And then they'd break up with me, get tired of being with me or leave me for some other girl, and the fantasizing would only get much worse. I'd imagine them running up to me and apologizing for everything, telling me that they loved me and never wanted to leave me. Saying that they'd made a mistake. And then we'd kiss and hold each other.

I was jealous of my imagination. It had a much more interesting life than I did.

**In the rain**  
**The pavement shines like silver**  
**All the lights**  
**Are misty in the river**  
**In the darkness**  
**The trees are full of starlight**  
**And all I see is him and me, forever and forever**

I would just lay in bed, surrounded by darkness, and imagine that my beloved was sleeping with me. Nothing sexual, just sleeping next to me. I'd hold them and smile at them and whisper words of affection in their ear. And I knew that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be happening in my imagination and I'd have this experience in real life. What an idiot I am.

After a boyfriend would break up with me, I'd still love them. I wouldn't be able to let them go for weeks. I'd still think about them constantly, gazing at them as they walked past me in the halls, and daydream about them. I've seen a lot of movies and read a lot of books about girls immediately getting over boys who break up with them, girls who laugh and make the best out of the situation and say that they're better off without him. How did they do that?! I wasn't one of those girls. When someone breaks up with me, I expect to start hating them and want to punch them. But no. Absolutely not. I think that I grew more in love with them after they break with me. I'd cry over them for hours, spend all night laying in bed thinking about what I did wrong and how I could have fixed things, and whenever someone "threatened" to hurt them for me, I'd break down and cry, telling them that I didn't want anything bad to happen to them. I couldn't bear to think mean things about my ex, or want to hurt them for hurting me. I was still too attached to them. I think that my heart sometimes confused pain with affection.

**And I know**  
**It's only in my mind**  
**That I'm talking to myself**  
**And not to him**  
**And although**  
**I know that he is blind**  
**Still I say**  
**There's a way for us**

I shook my head and shoved a spoonful of peanut butter into my mouth. Five boyfriends. Five. Five heartbreaks, five memories, five mistakes. All they'll ever be to me are hurtful mistakes, and nothing more. After the break up, we don't talk or even look at each other anymore. We just don't. For me, the pain makes looking at him or even talking about him unbearable, although a part of me wants to keep talking about him and keep being with him. For him, I'm too much of a clingy bitch and a mistake that he completely wants me out of his life for good. And all he wants is for me to get out of his life and to stay out. They all hate me by the time we're over, and are completely relieved to be rid of me, I on the other hand am sobbing in my bedroom, cursing myself out for being such a bad girlfriend and such a terrible person. That's how it's always been, with every break up I've gone through, except for one case.

**I love him**  
**But when the night is over**  
**He is gone**  
**The river's just a river**  
**Without him**  
**The world around me changes**  
**The trees are bare, and everywhere**  
**The streets are full of strangers**

Jacob Carter, a huge fan of musicals and great actor and singer (who's gotten leads in every single school musical for the past six years), who I dated towards the middle of tenth grade. I was deeply attracted to him, and I really cared for him. I was pretty sure that I loved him, and I thought that he loved me. But when he dumped me via text because of our communication issues, we agreed to still talk and be friends. However, it turned out horribly because of the awkwardness, and I decided to never speak to him again. I blocked him on Instagram, and he got the message, ignoring me as well. We have communicated a little bit because we've been in all the school musicals together and in chamber chorus together, but we're nothing to each other. We're just strangers, and we'll never be anything more than that.

**I love him**  
**But every day I'm learning**  
**All my life**  
**I've only been pretending**  
**Without me**  
**His world will go on turning**  
**A world that's full of happiness**  
**That I have never known!**

I swallowed thick saliva as Eponine crouched down in the rain, beginning to cry. Samantha Barks was a perfect Eponine. She portrayed the character incredibly well, and she really showed so much passion and emotion in Eponine's songs, like 'A Little Fall of Rain' and her solo in 'One Day More'. And 'On My Own'- she sang this song beautifully, with so much love and feeling. It was as if Samantha Barks really was Eponine, really living in that time period and really in love with Marius. The song showed the struggle of loving someone who would never love you back, pretending that the one you loved was beside you when they were really somewhere else, thinking of anything but you. And I was able to connect with Eponine because of that song. I understood her situation and she understood mine. I was Eponine and Eponine was me. We were one and the same.

**I love him…**

Had I ever loved someone who didn't love me back? Yes.

**I love him..**

All five boyfriends didn't love me. If they did love me, they wouldn't have broken up with me. If they did love me, they wouldn't be scared to admit it. If they did love me, I'd still be with them.

**I love him…**

I've never been loved. I've just been crushed on.

**_But only on my own…_**

Just as Eponine stopped singing and I was recapping everything I'd felt during the wonderful piece of music, I heard the doorbell ring, a light, melodious clicking noise echoing throughout the house. On instinct, I stood up and began walking across the cool, hardwood floor to the front door. "Leslo!" I heard. "Leslo, it's us! Open the door!" I gave a confused chuckle. The only people that would ever call me 'Leslo' are my girls. What were they doing here?

I turned the brass doorknob and tugged the door open. Standing on the small, maroon bricked staircase up to the door were Jamie, Adrianna, and Mobina, grinning at me. "Surprise!" squealed Jamie, giving me a quick hug. The girls looked excited and like they were plotting an evil scheme at the same time.

"Hey, prisoner!" Mobina said, giving my shoulder a quick pat. "How's life behind bars?"

"Um, I've only been grounded for three and a half hours," I pointed out, "so I can't really say what life behind bars is like. But, uh," I began rubbing the back of my neck with my hand, "it's been alright. Mom left for work two hours ago, and I've been watching Les Mis even though I really shouldn't be. It sucks not having my iPod, though."

"Yeah, I know how addicted you are to that thing," Jamie replied. "Wow, you really can't have it until October? Sounds like torture."

"Believe me, I don't think that I'm going to be able to function correctly without it," I said, shaking my head.

A gigantic grin appeared on Adrianna's face. "Well!" she said, giggling a bit. "We've come to bail you out for awhile."

I began to step out of my house and onto the brick stairway. "What do you mean?"

"Since we have senior privileges and can leave the school during lunch," Mobina began explaining, "we decided to take you out to McDonald's, chat with you for awhile."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Guys, I would, but McDonald's is a couple miles away from here, how are we going to walk there, get lunch, and come back before next period?" Their plan really did suck. Well, most of their strategies were fails as well, so this wasn't anything new. Ladies and gentlemen, my three best friends.

Adrianna's grin grew larger, and it even looked creepy at this point. "I bought a car."

Well, I sure as hell wasn't expecting that. Her words caused me to take a step back, almost making me trip. "You what!?"

"Yep."

"When did this happen!?" When I was shocked, or trying to get a point across, or just mad, my voice went up to a higher pitch, my voice becoming squeaky and crackly. It happened with my mother too, so I could see where I got it from.

"Last night," Adrianna replied, twirling her light brown, curly hair with her right index finger, one of her many habits. It was then that a noticed a maroon colored Toyota mini-van parked a few feet from my mailbox. It was the same kind of car that my mom owned, just in a different color. "I forgot to mention it this morning, but my mom let me buy a car at the dealership in Greensborough. It's a used car, but it still functions really well, and-"

"Your mom let you buy a mini-van!?" I asked, surprised and confused. "And she let you drive it to school!?"

Adrianna gave a loud chuckle. "Eh, she's not as protective as I thought she was."

I turned to my two other friends. "And you guys let her drive it to pick me up!? I mean, this is the girl who fell down a flight of stairs while holding the railing an hour before Topsy Turvy Day last year! This is the girl who had to quit introduction to dance after the first quarter of her freshman year because she kept falling on her face every time she did a simple leap halfway through the routine! This girl is a self described klutz, and you're letting her drive a mini-van without thinking for a second that she's going to crash into another car or into a street sign or something!"

By the end of my speech, Adrianna, Mobina, and Jamie were clutching their sides and laughing unbelievably hard. It was absolutely true- Adrianna was a crazy, self described klutz. Introduction to dance left her with a broken nose, and it was only a quarter of the way through the year when she quit. I couldn't understand why Mrs. Jenner had let her daughter buy a freaking car.

I shook my head, giggling as I listened to my friends laugh. "Unbelievable. Unbe-freaking-lievable."

It took a half of a minute or so for the girls to calm down and start wiping the tears out of their eyes. "Surprisingly, Adrianna's a decent driver," Jamie told me, speaking through slow, cut up chuckles. "Yeah, she drove right into the sidewalk and almost crashed into a little old lady in a wheel chair on our way here-"

"See!?" I exclaimed. "This is why you don't let Adrianna Rose Jenner drive a car. Ever."

"But the little old lady is fine, the car is fine, we're fine," Jamie replied. "No one died, the car didn't get scratched, and I already explained to Adrianna that if she gets a ticket or gets into a car accident, I'm stealing her car and preventing her from buying a new one until she graduates high school."

"Or graduates college," Mobina added.

"I wouldn't let her buy a car ever," I said, crossing my arms.

Adrianna shook her head at me. "Look, I promise that if I kill someone, I'm letting Jamie drive and I'm giving her the car. Niall's waiting in the van for us. Are you getting in or not?"

I sighed. There were so many bad things that could happen with Adrianna behind the wheel of a mini-van. A collision with another car, a collision with a building, a collision with another little old lady on a sidewalk, or the car could just randomly set on fire out of nowhere. That is literally what happened in Earth Science in eighth grade. We were mixing random household liquids to see what would happen, part of a small experiment that the class was doing, and when Adrianna put nail polish remover with dish washing soap, it set on fire. Just those two ingredients, and the concoction set on fire out of nowhere. It was probably the most hilarious thing that I've ever seen Adrianna do, and she didn't even do anything. To this day, Mr. Schwartz doesn't understand what happened, even when the class told him several times that it was because Adrianna was there.

"Well, I guess I have nothing to lose," I replied, smiling. "I need to get out of the house, anyway."

"Great!" Adrianna replied, grabbing my wrist as I shut the front door of my house. We ran across my yellow-green lawn, sandals clicking against the dry ground, and made our way to the maroon mini-van. Adrianna and Mobina went to the other side of the car, Adrianna getting into the driver's seat and Mobina opening the side door and sitting in the middle section. Jamie opened the large, heavy door on our side and I was hit by that familiar new car smell, hints of mango scattered around the scent (probably from an air freshener). It was funny how that smell could come from used cars as well as new ones.

I took a seat in between Mobina and Jamie, and Jamie swung the door shut. The car was perfectly clean, and didn't look at all like someone had owned it before Adrianna. They must have done a pretty good job fixing it up.

"Ey, Les," a familiar Irish accent said to me. I looked up, seeing Niall sitting shotgun. He had his feet up against the window and looked completely relaxed. He had really made himself feel at home in this car.

I smiled. "Hey, Ni." Adrianna glared at me as she put her key in the ignition and started the car, and I immediately realized my mistake. Only she calls Niall 'Ni', and no one else. I guess it was a nickname that only Niall's girlfriend could call him. I quickly tensed up. "Um, sorry, AJ." She rolled her eyes and began moving the car down the street. Oh, God, here we go. I silently prayed to God to keep us safe and to not let the car randomly set on fire like what happened in eighth grade. Hopefully, Adrianna wouldn't set anything else on fire with her mind. Those days were over. Although I wouldn't be surprised if that actually happened.

"So, Leslie, I heard that Old Dagger Eyes suspended ya for two days," Niall said, bringing back quick memories of being in Frollo's office, his deep, crackling voice telling me that I was going to be sent home and wouldn't be allowed to come back until Wednesday. "Ouch. And just for standin' up for someone. Doesn't seem like a fair punishment."

"And to make it worse, my mom grounded me," I replied, leaning back in my seat. The brown leather was cool on my warm skin, the hot September sun beating down on me through the open windows. Even though it was basically fall, the heat caused me to believe that it was the middle of August. "She obviously doesn't understand the situation, either."

Adrianna slammed on the breaks, stopping the car quickly, all of our bodies lurching forward. I began shaking, my stomach churning in surprise. Oh my God, we were going to die. "What the hell, man!?" Jamie exclaimed, reaching forward and giving Adrianna a quick slap on the cheek.

"Seriously, are you trying to murder us!?" Mobina yelled, taking deep breaths and leaning back slowly.

The car began to move again. "Hey, driving is hard, and I literally just got this car," Adrianna replied, rolling her eyes at her friends. "Give me a damn break here."

"Please," Mobina sighed. "Driving is the easiest thing in the world. You want me to drive instead?"

"No, no, I got this," Adrianna said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. I held my breath. This was going to be a long ride.

Jamie coughed a bit, clearing her throat. "Leslie," she said, turning to me. She had a serious look on her face, expression as hard as stone. "I want to talk about what happened today."

I let out my breath as I shut my eyes and leaned back in my seat. I knew that they were going to want to talk about it. "Fine," I replied. "Talk." They were going to ask why I stood up for the ugliest person in the school. They were going to laugh at me and mock me for a bit. And then they were going to drop it after a little while and eat McDonald's in peace with me and not give a shit anymore.

"First of all," Jamie said as I opened my eyes, her expression still rock hard and serious, "I want to know what on Earth caused you to stand up for-"

I answered her before she was finished asking her question. "Did you hear what she was saying?" I asked, stressing all of my words. "She was telling that poor boy to go kill himself! I thought that if just one person stood up for him then-"

"Yeah, I get it, but don't you think that it's a little extreme to completely insult Monica and let her insult you back?" Mobina asked me. "I would have just told her to cut it out and walked away. Instead, you stayed there and let her insult you, which dragged us into the whole thing-"

"That's exactly what my mom said," I replied, shaking my head. "But I was so unbelievably angry! Monica thinks that she runs the school with her stupid twitter account and being head cheerleader, but no one even likes her! What she was saying was beyond cruel, and someone had to put a stop to it! And when I was talking, I couldn't stop, and I didn't think for a second to run away from her-" I stopped myself and sighed, burying my face in my hands. I felt like they only partially understood what I was saying.

"And thanks to you, Monica's tweeting that revenge is on its way," Adrianna said in a stressed tone. "And I have a feeling that revenge is on its way to the three of us girls as well, since I insulted the hell out of her vagina. Pretty soon, it'll be like a war between us and the cheer squad, and they'll probably win. After all, they're at the top of the pyramid, queens of popularity. They have their ways of getting what they want."

I gave a long and heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, guys," I said, putting my hands down into my lap. I looked at each of them, stone cold faces glaring at me. "I wasn't thinking straight in that moment. Can- can you forgive me?"

Their serious expressions changed, and they smiled at me, Adrianna's eyes still on the road. "Of course, Leslo," Adrianna replied in a warm tone of voice. "You're my sister for life, I'll always be able to forgive you."

"Same," Mobina told me, placing a soft hand on my shoulder in a comforting way. Jamie just nodded at me and gave a soft smile that said, "I'll forgive you no matter what."

I returned their smiles. "Thanks, girls," I replied, feeling more confident. Nothing that I say or do could make these girls hate me, nothing at all.

Niall chuckled. "You girls have the most sisterly bond that I've ever seen," he said. "It's incredible how close you four are."

Adrianna glanced at her lover and smiled. "Thanks, Ni," she said. "You can thank seventh grade for that."

Seventh grade. I smiled at the thought of it. Yes, things were very rough that year, one of the worst times of my life, but it was also the year that I met my three best friends, my three sisters. We had a strong bond that couldn't be broken by anything or anyone in the world, a huge force of nature connecting us that only we could see. No one could get in the way of that, not even Monica DeGiorno, not even the head cheerleader, homecoming queen, part time model, and gossip queen of NDHS.

Monica couldn't get in the way of my desire to help people either, and a pang of sorrow burst in my chest as I remembered Quasimodo's shaking, embarrassed figure as Monica was talking to him, his eyes full of confusion and fear as I was standing up for him. After doing that for Quasimodo, it only made sense that I befriend him.

"By the way," I said as Adrianna drove turned the car to the right and pulled up on Main Street, "I know that this is a stupid question, but would you guys hate me if I said that I'm planning on helping Quasimodo by becoming his friend?"

All of a sudden, Adrianna slammed on the breaks and the car skidded to a stop, my entire body lurching forward. Every muscle in my body was buzzing with shock, and I was clutching the seat in front of me. The entire area around me had frozen, and all four of them were staring at me with large, shocked eyes. The stares made me completely uncomfortable, looking from each one of them and hoping that they had some traces of understanding in their expressions. Nope. Just stone cold shock and eyes that said "Leslie Diana Suburbs, what the fuck is wrong with you?" By then, I had calmed down enough to finally move my body and lean back in my seat, sighing.

"I'll take that as a maybe."

* * *

Not even the juicy taste of McDonald's chicken McNuggets could cause me to forget their surprised looks. Even if I did befriend Quasimodo and help him get through senior year, would my friends ever really understand my desire to help him?

* * *

**CHAPTER OVAH!**

**Thanks so much for reading! Don't be shy, please review! (And if you do review, I will notice you and mention you in the next chapter) Tell me what you liked/disliked about this chapter, what you want to see in the future for this story, etc. **

**THANK Y'ALL! CHAPTER 6 COMING SOON!**

**~Kelsi**


	6. A Voice Like Bells

**Hellooooooo everyoneeeeee! Not much to say here. I'm going back to school in 9 days, so I may not have as much time to work on my stories. Anyway, I'd like to thank our reviewers!**

**Cloudcity'sBookworm**

**CharlieGreene**

**LexisTexas200**

**CityCat**

**xxxMadameMysteryxxx**

**I'd like to thank all five of you for everything that you wrote. I've taken the reviews and tried to make my story a lot better using your criticism and what you liked :)**

**Here's chapter six!**

* * *

**Chapter Six: A Voice Like Bells**

As we approached the large, beige brick building that was Notre Dame High School, I twirled a lock of dull blonde hair in between my fingers, my other hand balled up into a fist and pressed against my chest. "You guys are really confusing me," I said to my girls, who were walking right alongside me. "Aren't you supposed to support my decisions?"

Jamie sighed, pulling down the zipper of her navy blue sweatshirt. "Leslay's chips," she said slowly (another one of my various nicknames that the girls had given me), "I love you to death, but this is going to murder your reputation." Her voice was a strange mix of totally serious and soft, like a pillow that was thick and durable, yet soft and comfortable, hard and soft at the same time.

Adrianna cut in, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. Murder it brutally with a knife." She spoke in a serious and comedic tone. During the most serious of situations, Adrianna could be hilarious and still get away with it. She should be a comedian. I'm sure that she'd be way better than Sinbad, who just tells fucking McDonald's jokes all the goddamn time. Really, come on. You've told enough of those jokes to make more people fat than they would get if they actually ate the food. "Stab it to death and make it bleed all over my kitchen."

Mobina chuckled through her words. "Why is Leslie's reputation in your kitchen?"

Adrianna then threw her head back and started shouting in an aggressive and sarcastic tone. "God damn it, Leslo's reputation! Get the fuck out of my kitchen!" The laughter started up again, a weird combination of chuckles and giggles escaping my throat. "You're ruining my fucking polished wood floor! This is going to be a god damn bitch to clean up!" I clutched my stomach, sides starting to hurt. Mobina looked like she was about to pass out from lack of air, and Jamie… Well, she just looked like a madman. "Come on, I cook in here! Can't you bleed to death in the fucking street or something, where things normally bleed to death!?" By then, I was debating whether or not to call an ambulance to take Jamie to the hospital. She was basically choking on her laughter. Most of the students around us were staring, wondering which mental hospital we escaped from, but we didn't care. This happened a lot.

Adrianna glared at me, a serious look on her face but a large smile on her lips. "Leslie get your reputation out of my kitchen."

I was still chuckling, wiping my eyes. "It was never in your kitchen," I replied.

Adrianna tilted her head to the side. "Is it in my living room then? Is the blood seeping into my carpet? Do I have to call Consuela from Family Guy to clean it up?" She cleared her throat with a few coughs before continuing, in a voice that sounded completely like an elderly Spanish woman, "No, no… I no clean in here. N-No… You- You clean, Meester Adrianna. I no clean blood. Ees too messy. No, no, no…"

Mobina, not getting the joke all that well, looked up confusedly. "Consuela doesn't exist, AJ."

Adrianna's smile faded quickly as she glared at Mobina with a dull look on her face. "Well aren't you just a fucking ray of sunshine?"

Jamie shook her head. "Back on the topic, please?" she asked, turning to me and clearing her throat. I knew that I was in for those cliché sister-to-sister speeches. "Leslie, what we're trying to say is, well, this is going to completely destroy your reputation. In a public high school, the last place you want to be is at the bottom of the pecking order."

I gave Jamie a weird stare, the air around us suddenly becoming colder. "Isn't my reputation already destroyed? I mean, insulting Monica hurt it a lot. Plus, I'm all over her twitter." That was true. It was possible that I was already at the bottom of the food chain. I had received several weird stares from the students around me, and I wasn't even in the building yet. Today was going to be an interesting day.

"True," Mobina replied, pressing her lips together tightly. By then, Adrianna was pulling a large, glass door open, a wave of warm air hitting us as we walked into the lobby. As soon as I walked inside, heads were turning in my direction, eyes setting on me, and I immediately felt like turning around and running the other way. I was so unbelievably uncomfortable with all this negative attention. The talking continued, but I knew that they were talking about me. What I'd done to Monica.

Speaking of Monica, there she was, standing in front of the auditorium doors, a long piece of medical tape across her nose, an unusual shade of deep pink. Her long, light brown hair was a bit frizzier and messier than usual, Danielle and Gabriella Kramer standing on either side of her, brushing her hair with their fingers and trying to get the frizz to go down. No use. But that looked like the least of Monica's worries. Her expression was furious and cold, perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed and wrinkled, her eyes like knives glaring at me. There was a dark air around her, I felt a short pang in my chest from her stare. Wow, this feels familiar. She and Old Dagger Eyes could be related.

She and Frollo could be related.

Her hateful stare told me that a storm was brewing, a war was on its way to Notre Dame High. And there was nothing that I could do to get out of this war.

I was finally able to find my voice, leaning in towards Adrianna. "Um, maybe we should just go right to first period instead of hanging out here," I suggested, my voice quick and airy, the moisture slowly creeping down my throat and drying my mouth. All the stares and murmurs from the crowd were making me completely uncomfortable. Poor Quasimodo, having to experience this every time he walked into the school.

Adrianna nodded. "Come on girls," she said, turning to Mobina and Jamie, and we hurried out of the lobby, about a hundred eyes following us as we disappeared around the corner. Adrianna's hand was gripping my wrist as she pulled me along, wanting me to get out of there as soon as possible. The last thing she wanted was for me to get into another catfight with Monica.

Jamie turned to me, her eyes full of an unsettling seriousness. "Now that that's over, I need to talk." She put a warm hand on my shoulder. "Leslie, let me be one hundred percent honest with you." Her voice was light and airy in a creepy way. This wasn't Jamie. This wasn't her voice. Her voice was cheerful and strong, not airy like this. "Even if Quasimodo turns out to be the sweetest person you've ever met, people are going to think very badly of you. Because honestly, all anyone cares about these days is looks. It's not just in school, it's everywhere. That's what you get judged on. And that's why your reputation is going to get murdered. Because he's unspeakably ugly."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks and stole the words from my mouth. If my tongue wasn't numb before, it sure was now, laying in my mouth as if it were made of dead tissue. I looked down at my black flats, my lips pressed tightly together and my eyes half closed. I had nothing to say. And even if I did, I wouldn't speak. I couldn't.

The silence hung in the air, only the sound of our shoes clicking against the shiny, marble floors, until Adrianna decided to speak. "Don't do this to yourself," she said, the words obviously directed at me. "If people see you with him you're really going to get shit talked. Do you want to get hurt and mocked as much as Quasimodo?"

I stayed quiet. For a strange reason, this was hurting. We were talking about a complete stranger, and I was hurting. Weren't they supposed to support me? I couldn't feel my tongue, and I could barely walk. All other bones in my body were frozen solid.

Mobina looked at me in concern. "Les? Leslie, are you okay?" No, Mobina, I'm not okay. Not after what was just said.

Finally, my tongue regained feeling, and I was able to move my jaw enough to speak, my eyes still locked on my shoes. "I appreciate what you're trying to do." The words slowly crept out of my mouth, the tip of my tongue still numb as ever. "But this is my choice and you guys can't change it." I swallowed, finally able to look up. The serious look was starting to fade from the girls' faces, turning into looks of concern. "Honestly, you're being really cruel." I gave a light sigh. "Everyone's being really cruel. This is my own decision, and I'm going to go through with it. No matter what you-" I pointed to Jamie, "or you-" I pointed to Adrianna," "or you-" I pointed to Mobina, "say to me to try and change it."

Mobina nodded slowly. She looked the most understanding out of the three. "Alright. Do what you must."

"But you better not say we didn't warn you," Adrianna said, shrugging.

I shook my head, the door to my Calculus class just a few feet ahead of me. "Trust me, girls, I won't."

* * *

AP Calculus. Confused throughout the whole forty minutes and I can't remember what Mr. Davidson was talking about for my life. Great. It's only the second week of school and I have no idea what the fuck is happening in that class. Just perfect. I don't know how the hell I got into honors. I mean, in middle school, advanced math was a piece of cake. But high school- wow. Just wow. Based on the way Mr. Davidson rolled his eyes at me when I answered an obvious question incorrectly, he doesn't know how the hell I got into this class either. And yet, Jamie, Adrianna, and Mobina say that I'm the "smart one" in our group. Yeah, but just because I can figure out how much a dress costs if it's fifty five dollars with seventy percent off without using a calculator doesn't make me smart. (Until I discovered my love of clothes and jewelry in ninth grade, that was the only reason that the girls took me shopping).

Social Studies was alright, and creative literature, however, was great. The only class where I'm able to express myself, not be judged for it, but we'll get to that later.

And then, French class.

I walked into the room, Mobina by my side, the only one out of my three best friends who was in this French class with me. She was talking about Nicholas again, I think, but I was barely paying any attention to her. I was too focused on what I was going to say to Quasimodo, how I would become friendly with him. What words could come from my mouth that would help me gain his trust?

Surprisingly, Quasimodo was already there, sitting at the very back of the room when I walked in. He had his arms crossed over the table, head resting on them, the hump on his back sticking out more than ever, messy red hair falling in front of his face. He had some kind of a frightened, depressed air around him, his expression lonely and unsettling to me. If there was a perfect time to talk to him, it was now.

I slung my backpack over the back of my chair and turned to Mobina, who was just sitting down. "I'm going to go talk to him, okay?"

She nodded, knowing exactly who I was talking about. "You're really going to go through with this?" She sounded unsure and confused.

I crossed my arms, then quickly uncrossed them. "My mind is already made up." I gave a quick sigh, putting on the most calm expression that I could, and started walking towards Quasimodo.

As soon as he saw me walking towards him, he tensed up, changing his position so that he was sitting up as straight as he could, twiddling his thumbs under the desk. A huge amount of nervousness came over him, shown in his expression and position. I thought about turning back when I saw the nerves in his eyes. But something kept me moving, and soon, I was standing in front of his desk. We were inches apart, the closest I'd ever been to him.

I gave a warm smile. "Hey."

His shoulders stiffened at the sound of my voice, gaze moving up to my lips instead of my eyes. "H-Hi." His voice shook just at that one simple word. I felt something inside of me melt out of pity. The poor thing had probably never made a friend before.

I slowly sat down at the empty desk next to him, trying to be as soft and gentle as possible. "Can I talk to you?" My voice was low, the words crawling slowly out of my mouth.

He gave a quick nod, body still tense. "Yes."

I leaned forward just a bit, my blue-green eyes finally meeting with his emerald ones. I felt a strange twinge of warmth beat through my chest during the first few seconds of our eye contact. His eyes were beautiful, like dull green gems. I pressed my hand over my chest. My heart was beating quicker. Probably from the anxiety. "Look," I said, the smile fading a bit, "I'm sorry that I embarrassed you on Monday." I shook my head. "I'm just so sick of Monica always saying anything that she wants and getting away with it."

Quasimodo shifted in his seat, sitting up a bit straighter and putting his hands up in front of him. "Oh, no, you- you didn't embarrass me." It felt great to hear him speaking in a full sentence. I smiled at my miniature accomplishment.

"I didn't?"

The corners of his mouth twitched and he formed a smile for a mere few seconds. "No, of course not." A wave of warmth and washed over me. His voice was absolutely gorgeous. It sounded like… Bells ringing. Yeah, that was what it sounded like. The sound of the school bell, the beautiful, melodious notes ringing through the air. At Notre Dame, we have old fashioned brass bells that are rung to signal the end and beginning of each of the nine periods. It may be old fashioned, but the sound of the bells has become something that this school can't function with out, a familiar, beautiful tone. And his voice sounded just like them.

His eyes seemed to brighten as he continued. "Thank you for- for standing up to her for me. It- it really means a lot." He smiled again, a thin, curved line stretching across his face. Another wave of warmth.

I beamed. "No problem."

Quasimodo's smile quickly faded, eyes becoming duller. "I'm sorry that I got you suspended."

My eyes widened at his words. "Oh, are you kidding?" He looked up, a bit confused at my words. "Standing up to Monica was my own decision. She was the one who caused me to punch her and get myself suspended, you had nothing to do with it."

He smiled. "I can, uh, see that you have many things against her." He ended his sentence with a short, light chuckle. Gosh, his voice was cute.

The very thought of Monica caused my smile to fade. I rolled my eyes slowly. "Trust me, when you've been at this school for over three years, you learn more about Monica and all her sins than you do about the history of the United States." I gave an aggravated sigh as I imagined her perfect figure and obnoxious Spanish accent. "What a huge amount of nerve she has. You have to stay as far away as possible from people like that." He gave an awkward nod, a twinge of sadness appearing in his eyes. Afraid that I had caused bad memories to come up, I quickly attempted to change the subject.

"We've never actually introduced ourselves, have we?" I asked, smiling again. I held out my hand, thin fingers extended towards him, his eyes still meeting mine. "My name's Leslie. Leslie Suburbs. I also go by Twiggy, but that's only in a few cases."

He smiled, taking my thin hand in his large, meaty one. I shivered. His touch was gentle and warm, even comforting in a way. I touched my chest with my free hand. Heart still beating out of control. "It's- It's very nice to meet you, Leslie. I'm Quasimodo." My legs shook at his words. The way he said my name was absolutely perfect. Leslie- that name was the key note in a masterpiece of a song, a note so beautifully sung that words couldn't describe its perfection. I was beaming, cheeks getting red. I hoped that he didn't notice how shaky I was.

We let go of each other's hands with a slight shake, and I set my hand in my lap. My fingers were still shivering, and the cool air covered my hand and stung me. I was already missing his touch. Was he feeling the same thing that I was feeling?

"You know," I said softly, "you're a lot different from what everyone says you're like, Quasimodo." I leaned closer to him, setting a hand on his knee. My voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I want you to know that I'm not like those cheerleaders. I know that we just met and all, but I want you to know that you can trust me." I gave a warm, comforting smile. His cheeks were growing a bit pink, smiling from ear to ear. I was the person who had caused that smile. I felt incredibly proud of myself.

"Thank you," he said slowly, complete and utter gratitude in his voice, my ears perking up a bit at the sound.

I leaned back so that I was sitting up straight. "You're welcome."

The loud, opera singer-like voice of Madame Laurent caused our eyes to pull away and look towards the front of the room. "Seats, students, seats!" The heavy, white haired woman walked into the room, high heels clicking loudly against the floor. With all her makeup, curly white hair, and her flowing dress, she looked like she had just left the stage of an old French opera.

I turned back to Quasimodo. "Talk to you after class, alright?"

He smiled at me. "Alright."

I turned away from him and quickly made my way to my seat next to Mobina in the front of the classroom. The smile refused to leave my face, and my cheeks took just about forever to fade back to their original color.

About halfway through the class, I felt something light brush against my arm and fall onto my desk

_How'd it go?_

I could recognize Mobina's handwriting anywhere. The small, separated words scribbled across the paper. I flipped the note over and began to write.

_Great! He seems really sweet. I think that this'll be a really good thing for me._

I put the note on the ground and, using the tip of my foot, slid it over to Mobina's desk, careful not to attract any attention from Madame Laurent. It only took a few seconds for the post-it to fall onto my desk, more writing on Mobina's side of the note.

_Good. I actually have a way for you to still be friends with him but not let your reputation bleed to death in AJ's kitchen._

I rolled my eyes and scribbled my response on my side.

_Come on, didn't you see the way they were looking at me in the hallway? My reputation is already bleeding to death. But tell me your plan._

This time, a new post it note was slid onto my desk.

_Well, all you have to do is hide your friendship from the school. Only talk to him when no one's around, stay away from him in big crowds. It'll work, I know it._

I furrowed my brows in confusion. Stay away from him around other people? That just wasn't right. What Mobina was suggesting was pretty rude.

_I'm really not going to hide our future friendship from the school just to protect my reputation. And acting like I don't know him in big crowds? That's pretty rude._

The response came back even quicker this time.

_Come on, it'll work._

I shook my head and continued to scribble down words, Madame Laurent's voice, loud and soprano, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the lesson. That's probably what makes it impossible to fall asleep in class, probably what helped her get the job as French teacher.

_Neigh._  
_I'm a horse. Neigh._  
_That means no, by the way._  
_Hey, that rhymed!_  
_I can rhyme, anytime_  
_I'm a poet, you didn't know it_

I saw Mobina roll her eyes at my note.

Actually, that book of poems in your backpack has told me that you are a poet. So I did know it.

Soon, the notes were coming quickly, and I was writing faster than I usually write, my words coming out loopy and scrambled on the page.

_Back to the subject, please._

_Well, if you don't want to do what I suggested, fine._

_Maybe you should get to know him, too. You, Jamie, and Adrianna. Then you wouldn't be suggesting such rude things._

_Eh, MAYBE. But it's a small maybe._

_Better than a flat out no._

_We better stop this before Madame Laurent catches us._

_Talk to you after class? :)_

_Sure :)_

I folded up the post it note and pushed it into my binder, eyes moving to the hand that Quasimodo had held. The air around me seemed colder than usual. I smiled. Even my skin felt his absence.

But what was that? That rush of warmth that went through me when I saw his smile, the shiver that went down my spine when he said my name? The feeling I got when he began speaking to me… It felt incredibly familiar. I'd felt this before, several times, but not this intensified, not this… feely. Where was the feeling from? In what situation had I felt it before?

No matter how much I racked my brain for an answer, I couldn't remember what memories the feeling was linked to.


	7. A Dish Best Served in a Pie Tin

**Hey, y'all! How are you doing? I'm doing alright. I've spent all day texting my friends, playing on gaia online .com, working on this chapter, and overall just being lazy. At least I was productive with this story :)**

**THANK YOU REVIEWERS!**

**xxxMadameMysteryxxx**

**Cloudcity'sBookworm**

**LexisTexas2000**

**CharlieGreene**

**CityCat**

**Guest**

**So many reviews! Thank you all so much! :) I love you guys. I wish I could hug every single one of you. *Cyber hugs all six reviewers***

**I'd like to tell you all about my friend Jamie, who is the most amazing singer I've ever heard. Please, if you have time, check out her covers on youtube. Her username is jamiejadotte, and I would LOVE IT if you took the time to listen to her songs. She's perfect :)**

**And I'd like to give a shoutout to one of my favorite Hunchback of Notre Dame writers ever, CharlieGreene! Her newest story, Everything Has Changed, was inspired by this one, a tremendous honor. Please, if you have time, go check it out! There's only one chapter up, and it's GREAT! :)**

**Also, I have a new cover up on youtube! My username is writegirl42, and I have recently posted a video of me singing Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri. Please check it out and tell me what you think of it! :)**

**WOW. THIS THING HAS ALMOST 6,000 WORDS. WOW. IT'S NOT EVEN A BIG PART OF THE STORY. AND IT HAS ALMOST 6,000 WORDS. I NEED TO STOP PUTTING SO MUCH DETAIL IN. WOW. JUST WOW. LONG CHAPTER IS LONG. OKAY. ON TO THE STORY.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Revenge is a Dish Best Served in a Pie Tin**

_It's that time of the year again!_  
_Notre Dame High School's 68th annual musical_  
_'Les Miserables'_  
_Is coming to NDHS!_  
_Auditions will be held after school on October 10th in the auditorium_  
_Submission forms can be found outside of room 427. Be sure to fill it out and submit it during your audition_  
_See you there!_

"Calculations, Leslay's chips?" Mobina asked, looking from the large poster hanging on the cafeteria wall to me.

"Hmm." I tilted my head to the side, closing my eyes and remembering the five auditions I've gone through and the students who are bound to get leads this year. "Around five hundred students auditioning, four hundred and thirty of them knocked out after round one. After round two, we're left with a final cast of forty to thirty." I sighed. "Jacob gets Jean Valjean, Esmeralda and her perfect acting skills get adult Cosette, and the rest of the leads, who the hell knows."

_Esmeralda and her perfect acting skills._

Esmeralda Trouillefou. Mr. Trouillefou's daughter. Senior. Absolutely gorgeous. Runner up for homecoming queen. The sweetest, most kindhearted person in this whole school, with a fiery attitude and a strong personality. If she had been there while Monica was insulting Quasimodo, she would have definitely stopped it. She was home sick that day, I hear. Captain of the school dance team. She has incredible acting and singing skills; she was Mary in 'Mary Poppins' in eighth grade and she did incredible. Her solos moved the whole audience to tears. Just last year, she was Rizzo in Grease, absolutely killing it with 'There Are Worse Things I Could Do'.

And yes, she's a cheerleader. Right on the second row of the pyramid from the top. But she's not like the other cheerleaders, all snobby and prissy with their gallons of makeup and skirts so short that you can see their underwear. No, she's a lot kinder and less… showy. Unlike Monica, who goes to school with a ten to one skin to clothing ratio and gets away with it because of how much she looks like a playboy model.

However, Esmeralda and her father are gypsies. And there is a huge stereotype that gypsies are evil and steal from people on a regular basis. However, Esmeralda isn't evil at all, and anyone who knows her well can tell you that. I don't even know her well and I can tell you that she's the most kindhearted person I've ever met. Principal Frollo, the most stereotypical idiot in the universe, has it in his mind that every single gypsy is a "demon" and needs to be sent "back to hell" where they belong. At least, that's what I think he thinks about them. Frollo has expelled each gypsy that's set foot in his school, and he intends to keep all of them out. I'm pretty sure that he's only keeping Esmeralda and her father here because of Esmeralda's beauty. I don't know. I've tried figuring out the reason why Esmeralda is still at this school, but I haven't been able to find out a damn thing.

Adrianna turned to me and smiled. "I think that _you'd_ be the one to get Cosette, Leslo."

My eyes widened. _What on Earth was she saying?_ "_What? Me?_ I haven't gotten a lead in three years, and even if I do get a lead, why Cosette?" I hadn't had a lead role ever since I was Mrs. Banks in Mary Poppins in eighth grade, however, I only performed because I was the understudy of Gina Ellison, who was originally supposed to play Mrs. Banks, but got a huge case of the flu a week before the show. I was able to fill in, and I was told that I did an excellent job, although my voice cracked terribly loud halfway through 'Being Mrs. Banks' and I forgot about five lines (good thing the other leads were great at improvising).

Adrianna looked from the poster to me. "You have the most_ perfect_ soprano voice I've ever heard, Les. Plus, you kind of look like Amanda Seyfreid."

I tilted my head to the side a bit. Yes, I had been told that I looked like Amanda Seyfreid before, but a perfect soprano? Yes, I can hit the high notes that most of the girls in the soprano section can't hit. Yes, I sometimes sound like freaking Carlotta from Phantom of the Opera, with her squeaky voice and her unbelievably high range. A _perfect_ soprano? Not completely. "You think so?"

Jamie smiled at me, her deep brown eyes full of some kind of determination. "_Yeah_! You'd be perfect as Cosette."

I smiled at her. "And Jamie, you'd be a fantastic Fantine."

My friends and I have been doing plays ever since we were in eighth grade. I was in 'The Wizard of Oz' in seventh grade, when I was a munchkin, ozian, winkie, and jitterbug. After a lot of convincing, the three of them decided to audition with me in eighth grade. Mobina and Adrianna got into the ensemble, while Jamie, being the amazing singer that she is, became Mary Poppins' understudy. I was Mrs. Banks' understudy, later becoming the official Mrs. Banks when Gina got the flu, and that was our eighth grade play experience. In ninth grade, we all auditioned again, this time only Jamie and I getting in. It wasn't until tenth grade that Mobina and Adrianna were able to get in, all four of us in the ensemble. Jamie was Sandy's understudy in eleventh grade, and now that it was twelfth grade, all four of us were aiming for leads. We had improved our acting and singing skills since eighth grade, and we knew that we could get leads if we really tried. All we needed was practice with our voices and determination, and we definitely had that.

Jamie sighed, shaking her head. "Come _on_, Leslie, I-"

The smile faded from my face. Jamie was always trying to convince us that she wasn't a good enough singer to really get a lead, or to really win the X-Factor, like everyone said that she could. "No, I'm serious!" I cried in kind of a whiny tone. Why couldn't she see how good she was?

Jamie looked down at her hand, fingers covered with several rings. I recognized one of them, a thick silver band with a small butterfly on top. The middle was a deep silvery color, the wings a light blue. It was a birthday present, and I smiled at the memory of Jamie's arms wrapping tightly around me when she unboxed it. My friend sighed. "I don't even look like-"

I cut in. "It doesn't matter. What matters is your incredible acting talent and your perfect voice."

Jamie rolled her eyes at my words. Why hasn't she been able to realize how good she is? "Exactly," Mobina said, leaning forward. "Why the hell aren't you on the X-Factor?"

"Oh God, not this again." Jamie groaned. "Guys, I'm not-"

"Have you listened to your covers on YouTube?" Mobina asked. "They're incredible! The comments are full of praise, and people are always telling you how good you are, Pajamie!" Pajamie- the nickname that Adrianna gave Jamie in eighth grade that's stuck with her ever since. Gosh, we have a lot of nicknames for each other, don't we?

Jamie created a YouTube channel when she was thirteen, putting up covers of songs under the username 'Jamie Jadotte'. I've been putting up covers as well, under the username 'writegirl42', but I don't have nearly as many positive comments or as much recognition as Jamie has, even though I've been singing there longer. I think that Jamie is just waiting for an agent to discover her and sign her to a record deal, like Justin Bieber did. However, I think that she should go on the X-Factor and be proactive instead of just sitting around, waiting to be discovered.

Adrianna leaned forward and looked Jamie in the eyes. "When you go, I'm making two signs," she said. "One that says _'Go Pajamie'_ and another that says _'Nigga, I told you'_."

And just like that, we were laughing again, our sides getting sore from the power of Adrianna's comedic words. She could always make someone laugh when they're feeling down, always brighten a person's day with one sentence. Her words had some kind of power over people, able to make them laugh or at least smile. What would I do without her words? Nothing. I'd crawl up into a ball of sadness and die on the inside.

"Do you really think that they'll let you in with a sign like that?" Mobina chuckled.

"Honestly?" Adrianna shrugged. "Probably not, but if I get a warning I'll cross off '_Nigga_' and keep it as '_I told you'_."

I gave a weird laugh, a mix of a chuckle and a giggle. "You _guys_," I groaned, taking a small bite of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The sticky, thick peanut butter and the light, squishy jelly filled my mouth, some of it remaining there and sticking to my teeth after I swallowed. Great. Well, it could be worse. At least I didn't have braces for the peanut butter to stick to.

"Uh-oh." A look of unmistakable worry grew in Mobina's face. Her eyes quickly darted to me. "Ex-boyfriend alert."

A cooling shiver went up my spine at the word 'ex-boyfriend'. I've had five of them, but only one could cause that fearful look in Mobina's eyes, only one would cause my skin to buzz slowly at their presence. Only one would provoke the darkest memories of my life, only one was the reason I was suicidal at one point. And his name was-

"Sup, slut?"

I turned around, meeting eyes with the boy who had appeared at the head of the lunch table. He was about an inch shorter than me, as he had always been, and was pretty chubby, to the point where a few people would consider him "fat". His dark brown hair was short and messy, not a single strand falling off of the top of his head. His eyes were a sea of dark chocolate and irritation. He had always been annoying to me. Even when we were together, he could easily annoy me to no end. Now that we had split up, forget it. He was the most irritating thing in my life. He looked down at me like I was a mouse and he was a hungry cat, cockiness written all over his figure. He thought that he was so much better than be because he had been elected as grade representative on student council for the past three years. Well, he wasn't. I'm sorry, but in reality, I'm higher up on the pyramid than you are.

This is Andrew Mathlin. My first boyfriend, and my biggest mistake.

I smiled as he glared down at me, a cocky, smug look on his face. "Sup, fatass?" I asked in retaliation. Memories from ninth grade started to play in my mind, and it took all my strength to push them out. Stop, Leslie. Just stop. You had insane flashbacks in tenth grade. You're a senior. He doesn't mean anything to you, and he's not going to come back into your life this easily.

He furrowed his brows in annoyance. I was never a threat to him, I never got as far into his mind as he got into mine. He just thought of me as a burden, a shadow that followed him around high school. I was more than that. After tenth grade, he became nothing. Just a dead, broken memory.

Andrew leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, face closer to mine than it had been in years. I immediately stood up, my heart racing from the amount of tension in the air. Andrew's husky voice came back, his eyes meeting mine weirdly. "Babe, I-"

"You're not allowed to call me that anymore," I said as I was still taking in what he'd called me. Babe? He didn't even call me that when we were dating! What made him think that he could talk to me like that now, three years after he dumped me, when he was still spreading rumors about me and calling me a slut? I coughed quickly, clearing my throat. He wanted an argument? He was going to get one. "You dumped me three years ago, remember? You had your chance to call me that, and you gave up your chance."

It was then that Jamie spoke up. "Andrew, I think that you need to leave," she said, trying to get Andrew to leave me alone. I shot her a quick look that said, "Thank you so much," but Andrew paid no attention to my friend. In fact, after her words, he got closer to me. My thoughts were racing, legs starting to tremble. What the fuck is this, Mathlin!?

"Come on," he said, shaking his head and smiling cruelly, "that shouldn't mean anything to you anymore." He was looking at me a bit lustfully, however the smile on his face told me that this was a joke. Even if that smile wasn't there, I would have known that every word he spoke was a complete and utter joke.

"I could say the same thing to you," I spat, eyes wide with a strange mix of fear and anger. I let out a quick, sharp breath. This was the time to tell him what I felt about him, let my feelings loose. "Why do you still spread rumors about me, after all this time?" My hands balled into fists. I could have punched him right then. I could have gotten myself suspended again and my parents would understand this reason better than they understood my reason for punching Monica. "You dumped me three years ago, why aren't you over me? I just want you out of my life, Mathlin." I stood up straighter, glaring into his dark chocolaty eyes. "What the hell is your deal?"

He took a step back, my short rant taking him by surprise. He definitely didn't expect me to have that kind of a defensive outburst. After our break up, I've constantly been trying to ignore the rumors and the names he's called me. Never in my life had I ever defended myself like that. I smiled to myself at my miniature victory, expecting my ex-boyfriend to turn around and walk the other way. Instead, he just got closer to me, his smile fading into a look of pure seriousness. "Look, Leslie, I-"

_"SMACK CAM, BITCH!"_

That was the last thing I heard before I felt myself being smacked right in the face by something fluffy and rough at the same time, every cell in my body tingling with fear at the sudden slap. I couldn't see a damn thing, my glasses pushed up forcefully against my eyes and nose, the substance blocking my entire vision. The fluffy stuff around my face was moist and cool, like a kind of light creamy substance, sticking to my face. All I could see was darkness. All I could feel was the whipped substance. All I could hear was the loud, roaring laughter of what seemed like everyone in the cafeteria, my bones stiff with fear and absolute shock. And I could hear Monica DeGiorno's laughter, high pitched and nasally, over all others, absolutely obnoxiously loud, and right in my ear, too. So loud that my eardrums burned and stung with absolute pain.

It took a few seconds for the situation to register in my brain, but then I realized it- I had been smack camed.

For those of you who don't know, being smack camed means having a pie tin full of shaving cream pushed in your face unexpectedly while someone gets it on video. It was very popular here at Notre Dame High, especially with Monica DeGiorno. If she needed revenge, a good old fashioned smack cam was the perfect thing to do to get her anger out on the unfortunate victim. Upload the video to her twitter account and she had the perfect revenge right there.

And if I really had been smack camed…

Well, I was absolutely and positively fucked, wasn't I?

The laughter became completely irritating instead of embarrassing, chuckles and howls emitting throughout the room. The floor underneath me seemed to vibrate because of the loud noise, as if there was an earthquake happening a few miles from the school. It gave no sign of stopping or slowing down- in fact, it seemed to be getting worse. I wondered if Adrianna, Jamie, or Mobina had joined in on the laughter as well.

I felt the pie tin being slowly removed from my face, the darkness lifting and my eyes quickly adjusting to the familiar, bright light. The white, fluffy substance, which I had figured out was shaving cream, had completely covered the lenses of my glasses, which made it impossible to see full images. All I could make out were dark shapes through the light cream on my glasses. I immediately moved my hand up to my cheek, feeling around to see how much the shaving cream had actually covered my face. Sure enough, I could barely feel my skin underneath all that fluffy wet stuff. I swallowed hard, a lump of warm saliva crawling down my throat and into my chest. I probably looked hilarious. There was no way that I wasn't being recorded on about thirty different phones.

I was able to make out a skinny person with a huge amount of curves, an inch or two shorter than I was, walking directly in front of me, her high pitched laughter slowly starting to fade into the cool air of the cafeteria. I gave a subtle shiver, knowing who that nasally, obnoxious laughter belonged to.

She reached out a hand, and with a swipe of her finger across each of the lenses of my glasses, most of the shaving cream came off, annoying streaks from the hard wipe of her fingers remaining across the glass. Monica looked proud of herself, confident, and incredibly menacing, like she was about to take out a fork and start eating my very flesh. Her eyes were full of a dark kind of fire, the fire that I've seen in her eyes once or twice before, the fire that only appears after she humiliates someone to make herself feel stronger. That fire illuminated all over her face, making each of her perfect, playboy model worthy features look evil as well- the grin on her face, the oval-shaped cheekbones, the slightly pointed nose. Monica DeGiorno was a complete and utter demon, a demon that I was half frightened of and half furious with.

I watched as Monica leaned over so that her lips were millimeters away from my ear, which was already numb from the immense amount of laughter that was directed towards me. What she whispered caused every hair on the back of my neck to stand on end, my breath stopping halfway up my throat and staying there.

"Revenge is a dish best served in a pie tin with an iPhone on the side, bitch."

And with that, she turned around and walked back to her lunch table at the other end of the cafeteria, her high heels clicking obnoxiously loud onto the floor .Andrew and four other members of the cheer squad, who I guessed had been with Monica while she did the smack caming, followed her back to the table. I recognized the four cheerleaders as Danielle and Gabriella Kramer, who are around Monica one hundred percent of the time; Perrie Edwards, one of the actually nice members of the cheer squad who's dating Zayn Malik, a member of the football team; and Sophia Smith, a junior who's known to date boys just for their popularity. Just last year, she dated a member of the football team, Nick Tangorra, who's a senior, but when he broke his ankle during a game, getting an injury so bad that he had to leave the team for good, she immediately dumped him. Poor Nick. And I heard that he really cared about her, too.

I immediately sat back down at the lunch table, the laughter around me almost completely dying down by then, watching Monica and part of her posse sit down at their table and start talking to the other members of the cheer squad that were there. They all looked excited and completely entertained, ready to hear more of what Monica had to say about the event. I could barely think straight, for some strange reason. I felt dizzy and incredibly warm.

Jamie was the first at my table to speak, a scared and shocked look on her face, like she was still taking in everything that had happened. "Leslie, I-"

"Was she recording me?" was the first thing that left my mouth, my voice shaking and very heated. It felt weird to finally speak after all that had happened.

Mobina slowly nodded, afraid that I was going to explode with anger or do something stupid to get my revenge. "Yeah."

I started breathing heavily, a demon of anger awakening inside me. I hadn't been this angry since Monica told Quasimodo to kill himself, and I had been in an absolute rage in that moment. My hands shook as I wiped more shaving cream out of my eyes and off of my mouth, getting a clearer view of the room. Monica and her posse were standing around the lunch table at the other end of the room, Monica's mouth moving nonstop as she typed something on her iPhone. Had she really just smack camed me and taken her phone out without getting away with any of it? Where the hell were the lunch aids!? It seemed like they always disappeared whenever Monica was causing trouble. Who knows? Maybe she paid them to leave the room. Or maybe she pushed someone down a flight of stairs right outside of the cafeteria to get the aids to leave and help whoever was hurt.

Adrianna growled, slamming her fist down onto the table, sending vibrations across the seats. "That little fucking slut!" She exclaimed, causing a few people from the tables around us to look her way. I gave a sharp growl, gritting my teeth in fury.

"Are you okay, Les?" Mobina asked, trying to calm me down as much as she could. She looked absolutely terrified of the look on my face, and I didn't blame her. I most likely looked like I was about to kill a bitch.

I coughed loudly, and I began talking, my voice raspy and completely stressed. "Monica fucking DeGiorno just gave me a smack cam, got it all on tape to put on her fucking twitter account, and now I can barely see because my face is covered in this god damn shaving cream! Do you think I'm okay!?"

Jamie put a hand on my shoulder, a weird attempt to get me to settle down. "I swear to God," she said, shaking her head furiously, brows furrowed in anger, "I will cut a bitch if that gets uploaded to twitter."

I saw Mobina look down at her thighs, gasping a bit. "I think that it already has. Look."

She took an iPhone with a floral, bubblegum pink case off of her lap and showed us what had come up as a notification on her screen.

gossipqueenndhs has a new tweet!  
"Twiggy Suburbs getting smack cam-ed right in the face. The poor bitch didn't know what hit her. writes42 How do you like revenge? LOL"

At the end of the tweet was the link to a video. Mobina looked up to me, giving me a look that asked if I was okay with seeing the video. I shrugged, my throat dry with fury, and she hesitantly tapped the link. Jamie, Adrianna and I leaned in to get a better look.

The screen went dark for a second, and then an image appeared. It was Andrew, standing uncomfortably close to me, that sincere look but crazy grin on his face. He looked somewhat like the Joker, about to stab me in the back, hungry eyes meeting mine. I looked furious, my mouth moving rapidly. The video hadn't picked up what I was saying, but anyone would have known that I was telling Andrew to get the fuck away from me right that instant.

Then, out of nowhere, Monica's Spanish, obnoxious voice screamed, "SMACK CAM, BITCH!" A pie tin full of shaving cream was pushed forcefully into my face, covering all of my features. The hooting laughter of everyone in a twenty foot radius caused the microphone on the iPhone to start to turn to static. In the background, Andrew was clutching his sides and howling with laughter, pointing at me rudely. And I had a fearing air about me, my hands balling into shaky fists, my foot tapping uncontrollably on the floor.

Immediately, I pressed the blue button in the top left corner of the screen that read 'done', and the video stopped, the screen showing Mobina's twitter account. "Okay," I sighed. "That's enough of that."

Jamie shook her head and groaned. "Goddamn whore and all her fucking unnecessary power."

I looked up. Monica had her head titled backwards and she was laughing uncontrollably, eyes shut tight. Everything about her was obnoxious. Her perfect face, her huge breasts, her terrible personality, the way that she was constantly making others feel small to make herself seem taller and more powerful

"I've got to get her back," I declared, a new air of determination about me. I stood up, getting a better view of Monica, who was now talking again, facing Sophia Smith. Before I could even think anything else, Mobina spoke up.

"Leslie, sit down!" she exclaimed, taking my hand slowly. She sounded completely stressed and worried, knowing that if I really did get Monica back, there would be hell to pay. "If you just leave it as it is, you won't have to worry about getting in trouble, or more revenge-"

I forcefully pulled my hand away, turning to my friends. Each one of them looked worried and shocked, except for Adrianna, who looked the slightest bit confident with what I was planning to do. "Don't you girls understand? That fucking stupid narcissistic bitch wants a war!" I began to scoop big globs of shaving cream off of my cheeks and forehead, leaving them piled up in the palms of my hands. "And now she's got one."

Mobina opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late. I was already quickly walking up to the cheerleader's table at the far end of the cafeteria, making sure that my movements were as subtle as possible, not letting my flats click loudly against the floor like they usually do. I chuckled to myself in my mind as I got closer and closer to the table, making out more of the expressions on the cheerleader's faces. Danielle and Gabriella were sitting on either side of her, wearing identical chuckling smiles. It was kind of creepy how they shared everything, even sentences and emotions, like they were one person instead of two. Perrie had her arm standing up on the table, resting her head on the palm of her hand, giggling as she listened to Monica's words. Sophia was leaning in close to Monica, completely laughing, hungry for more gossip.

I got close enough to hear what Monica had to say, ready to make my move. Her voice was louder than ever, words lingering in the air and floating inside of me, fueling the fire of hatred that had grown in my stomach.

"The look on her face in real life was classic!" she exclaimed, slamming a palm down onto the table as she slowly gave Sophia her iPhone, which had a blue case with a large, white bow in the top left corner, the entire thing bedazzled with little sparkling jewels and beads. Monica cat up a bit straighter. "I have to say, I'm proud of myself. That was one of the best smack cams I've ever done-"

_"SMACK CAM, BITCH!"_

At the sound of my own scream, I quickly slapped Monica in the face, one hand full of shaving cream on each cheek, skin so covered in cosmetics that I could feel the thick, dry makeup on her face. Her eyes were wide with shock, mouth in a weird half-open position at the feeling of the shaving cream. Nobody did anything for a moment, not even Monica. Everyone was too shocked to do anything. As I giggled to myself like a maniac, I started spreading the shaving cream around her face, covering her entire cheeks and making my way up to her forehead. The laughter started up, Monica's face completely white with the cream, her eyes starting to get cloudy, and I finished up the job by shutting her eyes with my fingers and smearing a large amount of shaving cream across the middle of her head.

The laughter was as loud as ever, and I grinned to myself as I leaned closer to her, our noses almost touching. I opened my mouth and began to whisper, loud enough that she'd hear it over the laughter but soft enough so that only she would be able to make out my words, "Revenge is a dish best served off of my face."

After a moment, Monica's shocked expression faded into one of absolute hell and she found her voice through the shock. "You'll pay for this." Her voice was nothing less than a low, rumbling growl, like a furious tiger ready to pounce on its prey, which had been taunting and mocking it all through the night. Now, the tiger had its prey cornered, and the prey had no escape. It was trapped, the tiger baring its sharp, knife-like fangs, which would soon be covered in the prey's blood. The tiger was a beast full of strength, speed, and absolute hunger, and its next meal was standing right in front of it.

I was the prey, the biggest threat to that bloodthirsty animal.

And Monica DeGiorno was the tiger.

My hands immediately dropped to my sides and I backed away from the table as I realized what I'd done. Instead of not getting revenge and letting Monica forget about me and move on, I'd fueled her hellfire and caused my name to be written at the top of her list of students she aimed to humiliate and destroy. I was her main target. And she wanted me dead. She wanted me gone.

I gave a small whimper of fear and immediately ran out of the cafeteria, listening to the loud sound of my flats slapping against the floor as I made my way to the girls' bathroom.

What had I done!?

* * *

_ gossipgirlndhs_ has a new tweet!

"_ writes42 nadrianna4ever moschneider456 trulymadlyjamie_: You four sluts vs. my cheer squad. This is war, bitches. XOXO Monica"

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**AAAAAAAAAAND chapter over! Wow, long chapter is long. I came here to write a Queslie chapter, and I ended up writing the beginning of a huge bitch war. We're at chapter seven and Leslie and Quasi have only talked once. Wow. At this rate, this story will probably be like forty to fifty chapters long, and I've never written a story that long. Ever. The longest amount of chapters I've ever been up to was around 20. Hopefully, I'll be able to finish this story before the summer of 2014, but I doubt that that's gonna happen. Maybe before the school year starts in 2014.**

**I START SCHOOL ON MONDAY. FUCK.**

**This means I won't have as much time to work on this story, especially after November, when we start long, after school play auditions and rehearsals. In February and March, I stay until like 7pm on some nights. But I'll make sure to be on here as often as possible and do as much writing as I can! I want to get a good part of this story done before I start the school play, write as much as possible. So be sure to check for more chapters coming up soon!**

**So, go read 'Everything Has Changed', go watch Jamie and my covers (Jamie Jadotte and writegirl42) and keep checking for chapter eight!**

**I leave you with this:**

**QUESLIE FOREVER.**

**~Kelsi**


	8. Cheerleader Conversations

**HI GUISE I DIDN'T SEE YOU THERE. HOW ARE YOU. I know, I haven't updated in... Ever. I guess. My laptop broke, and it took me forever to get a chance to get it fixed. And now I'm back! YAY!**

**Okay, so, I'D LIKE TO THANK OUR BEAUTIFUL REVIEWERS THAT I WANT TO HUG SO MUCH:**

**Cloudcity'sBookworm**

**LexisTexas2000**

**CharlieGreene**

**xxxMadameMysteryxxx**

**newbornphanatic**

**DoodleGreenQueen**

**CityCat**

**Can I like hug all of you like really.**

**PLEASE. FEEL FREE TO SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT THIS STORY. I would love it if my story got more recognition and reviews and stuffs. :)**

**So basically, this chapter is kind of a filler... BUT DON'T WORRY.**

**HERE'S THE CHAPTAHHHH:**

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**Chapter Eight: Cheerleader Conversations**

I flung open the door of the bathroom, met with the sight of dirty, pale pink walls that were completely covered in words written in various colors and fonts, the smell of soap and makeup filling the air around me. I sighed, quickly shutting the door and walking up to one of the mirrors that hung over a dirty sink with the left knob missing. The words_** JENNY MACKER + CHRISTOPHER NELSON**_ were written in purple, loopy letters to the right of the mirror, the parts of some of the letters fading. Wow, the writing probably hasn't been washed off of the walls in years. Jenny Macker was co-captain of the cheer squad when I was a freshman, and from what I've heard, Christopher Nelson was her boyfriend when she was a sophomore. Those words were most likely scrawled onto this wall six years ago, maybe even as far back as seven or eight years.

I sighed as I read the words written right underneath, seeing three sentences written underneath each other in three different types of handwriting.

**PHEOBUS IS HOTTTTTT NO QUESTIONS ASKED**

**Yeah, his name literally means "Sun God"**

**THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH OMG! XD**

I rolled my eyes. Phoebus was pretty attractive, but a huge flirt, so I couldn't really see anything in him. Meanwhile, many girls, mostly sophomores and freshmen, drool at every little movement he makes. It's absolutely insane.

Phoebus and I did have a few encounters in the past, though. He was in the play last year, in the ensemble with Mobina, Adrianna, Jamie and I. As soon as the word got out that he was auditioning, the auditorium on the day of the general interest meeting was filled with freshmen and sophomore girls, hoping to get into the play so that they could get close with them. It scared me immensely to imagine what sort of graphic fantasies about the golden haired football player that their minds were constructing. Thankfully, ninety five percent of them were absolutely terrible, and the other five percent didn't even make it past the second round of auditions. I have to say, I was quite surprised when I saw him at the general interest meeting last October, since Phoebus is the last person I would have expected to audition for the musical. But surprisingly, he has a great voice, and got in with ease.

I put a thin fingered hand to my semi-flat chest and noticed that my heart was still pumping furiously, shaking as it pushed blood throughout my veins. I sighed, recalling what had just happened, and threw my head back, shutting my eyes tightly. Oh, I couldn't believe how _stupid_ I'd been! I should have just let the matter be instead of fueling Monica's flame of hatred, which had almost gone out because of her fulfilled desire for revenge! I should have let her have her glory and let her forget about me completely. Instead I chose to fight fire with fire, and now she wanted a fucking war. She wanted me to pay, she had said, and by the spark of pure hate in her voice, she wanted me to pay hard.

I opened my eyes and looked down, turning the one knob on the sink, water shooting out quickly. I bent down and splashed the water all over my face to get the shaving cream off, the cool sensation making my skin tingle a bit. Seriously, when was the last time that someone cleaned this place? There was writing everywhere, half the sinks and mirrors were broken, and the ceiling and floor were covered in a thin layer of grime, tissues and loose papers scattered throughout the room. It was like my girls and I had been in here after one of our hardcore sleepovers. Seriously, put the four of us in a room together for a whole night and in the morning the room will be completely trashed. Even if it's a completely empty room and we have nothing to trash it with, the room will be a complete mess in the morning. That's how crazy we are when we're together for a large number of hours.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something sparkle a bit. I lifted my head, turning off the faucet, and turned to the right, where the shining light had come from. Written in a shiny, silver marker across the entire wall (the sentence literally stretching from end to end), the words capitalized and written in thick, bold lettering, were words that probably every female student at this school has ever seen, even the first year freshmen.

**ANNEMARIE LYDELL RUNS THIS SHIT! BOW DOWN TO YOUR QUEEN, NDHS!**

The writer definitely wanted to get her point out, and she did: she ran the school, and no one could possibly dethrone her. Not even the queen of gossip, Monica DeGiorno. How ironic it was that Annemarie Lydell had graduated a little over two years ago?

Annemarie Samantha Lydell. Even though she was a senior while I was a sophomore, I knew basically so much about her and what she did while she was at the school. She was captain of the Notre Dame High School cheer squad and co-captain the year before, while Jenny Macker was captain. Annemarie is absolutely gorgeous, with the perfect face, bright blue eyes, great curves, and long, wavy red-brown hair. She's a full time model, starring in ads in Seventeen, Vogue, and a bunch of other magazines. She also does makeup tutorials on YouTube, her videos getting hundreds of thousands of views. Last I checked, she had a little over two hundred thousand subscribers, more than I'll ever have on my channel. Annemarie had this princess-y and shining air about her. She would walk into a room and it was hers, come to a party and have all the attention. Yes, she was cruel, but she was only rotten when she needed to be, unlike Monica, who is just a bitch one hundred percent of the time. She could easily be considered the most popular girl in the history of Notre Dame High School.

Written right underneath Annemarie's words was a sentence written in navy blue ink, the letters thick and large, like the person writing it was trying to get a huge point across. Just from reading a few words in the sentence, I was immediately able to tell that the girl who had recently shoved a tin full of shaving cream in my face was the writer.

**SORRY ANNEMA, LITTLE MONICA DEGIORNO HAS YOUR THRONE NOW. SUCK MY DICK, BITCH! XOXO**

I sighed. From the looks of that sentence, it seemed like Monica's flame of hatred over Annemarie was even bigger than her growing flame over me. I don't know much about Monica and Annemarie's relationship. When Monica was a freshman, she followed a junior Annemarie everywhere, constantly talking to her and trying to make friends. Annemarie only half gave attention to the young girl, but despite Monica's peppy annoyingness, Annemarie let her onto the team. Over the next year, the two grew to absolutely hate each other. Monica hated Annemarie, and Annemarie hated Monica. I've always been curious about how they came to dislike each other that much, and how Monica was picked as head cheerleader if Annemarie flat out despised her, but I was never really interested enough to ask people about it and do my research on it. Just a normal high school rivalry, I guessed.

But that's the thing about Monica. She has a "normal high school rivalry" with a lot of people, even some of the other members of the cheer squad. She has so many people that she despises, so many people whose high school careers she wishes to completely destroy. It was just in her prissy nature to hate so many people. But what kind of joy did she get from hurting people? Even if she was at the very top of the pyramid, hurting someone gave her a few more people who thought of her as garbage. Hurting people caused her to be hated herself, and even though she's technically above everyone on the social pyramid, she's far below everyone else. Hurting innocent people for your own personal gain makes you equal to dirt. This was true, but very few people at Notre Dame High School understood it.

I was pulled back to Earth and out of my thoughts when I heard the quick and uneven clicking of heels approaching. My heart stopped with the sudden thought that Monica could be the one coming to the bathroom to wash off the cream on her face. And what would she do when she saw me? Panicking, I quickly shut off the faucet and darted into one of the stalls, shutting and locking the door just in time to hear the bathroom door squeak open, two pairs of heels clicking furiously against the floor. I sat on the toilet and put my feet up so that I wouldn't be the least bit seen. Two pairs of heels? Who was with Monica? It was then that I heard a familiar voice ringing furiously throughout the air, sounding completely annoyed and overall pissed off.

"-understand, but that doesn't give you the reason to smack cam someone in the face and put it up on Twitter for all to see! It just doesn't! What you did to Leslie was absolutely cruel!"

It was Esmeralda. I could recognize her refreshing, light voice anywhere, a voice that sounded like springtime, coming in strongly yet sounding light and sweet, like the way the flowers looked, a striking color and a soothing appearance. This was the voice that got her the role of Mary Poppins, the role of Rizzo, and will probably get her the role of Cosette or Fantine or Eponine in the upcoming production of Les Miserables. But who could she possibly be talking to-?

_"ESMERALDA!"_

The sudden, angered scream caused me to shake violently and quietly slide myself further back on the toilet seat. I could recognize that voice anywhere. Monica. I knew it. Her voice was deeper now that she was angry, the word coming out cold and crackling with fury. I heard her cough shakily, as if she were struggling to get anything out, and continued, her voice now a lot more calm and natural, but still stressed, spitting out syllables quickly. "Esmeralda, I understand that I started this, and I understand that you're pretty pissed at me for everything that's happened in the past few days." Monica paused, and I heard the squeak of a faucet handle, the sound of a steady rush of water filling my ears. "But the bitch _punched me in the nose_!" Her voice was a lot more stressed and growling now, like all the anger welled up inside her was slowly beginning to seep out through the cracks of the flaws in her heart.

"And it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't told that poor boy to_ kill himself_!" Esmeralda protested, the sound of her slamming her high heeled foot down on the tiled floor echoing throughout the small, unkempt bathroom. I'd never heard her this angry, her voice more raspy and stressed than I'd ever imagined it could be. This was her, getting angry and upset when even the most ugly of outcasts was getting mistreated. She was a symbol of hope for the nobodies of the school, and in eighth grade I even heard Liam Payne, a total geek and absolute nobody before joining the football team in sophomore year, saying that he looked up to her completely, thought of her as a symbol of faith and beauty. Every outcast did.

"-and got me suspended for a day and a half!" Monica exclaimed, protesting more as she slammed a fist against the cold, pale pink wall. No matter how kindhearted or pure Esmeralda was, Monica was always trying to infect her with the "stereotypical cheerleader poison" that she possessed. I believed that she had a syringe in her purse, a syringe that she filled up with a potion that made cheerleaders bitchy and naughty and slutty. And whenever a new cheerleader was added to her squad, she'd wait until they're alone and then jump out and inject the potion into them. And that potion is called "Monica's bitchiness." Perfect name, right?

But Monica's bitchiness hadn't gotten to Esmeralda, not yet at least. Esmeralda remained kindhearted, beautiful, pure, an angel, and Monica couldn't take that away from her. No one could.

"-she was just_ standing up_ for him!" yelled Esmeralda, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor coming to my ears, and I could tell that she was walking towards the other side of the room.

"_Esmie_!" Monica cried, the faucet handle squeaking roughly, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, shivers going up every part of my body as my jaw twitched and I quickly covered my small ears with my thin-fingered hands. "The bitch insulted me beyond belief!"

I sighed softly, doing whatever I could to make myself seem invisible in that stall. 'You can call me a bitch, Monica DeGiorno, because that's what I am,' I thought, shaking my head. 'Anything more insulting than that, and I officially classify it as an insult. A terrible, horrible insult.'

There was silence for a moment, and then Esmeralda's strong, powerful, springtime-like voice came ringing through the air like a large, loud bell. "Monica_ DeGiorno_," she began, sounding incredibly pissed off and pushed to her limit. "I don't think that you understand how sick I am of you always causing drama and humiliating people to boost your own self esteem." Another pause, then her voice came pushing through the air again. "Being head cheerleader doesn't make you queen of the school, and you need to learn that!" Monica began to speak in a stressed and violently loud tone, but Esmeralda's powerful words cut her off. "I am absolutely fed up with your Twitter account and your horrible ways of revenge, and- I'm just sick of you!"

I gasped, quietly stepping to the back of the stall, as if Monica was going to come charging towards me in some sort of rage, like the revolting, strong bull that she was. I expected her to start screaming, to smack or beat up Esmeralda (as if that could happen. From spending five years acting alongside Esmeralda, I had discovered that she was surprisingly strong, nearly breaking the nose of the boy who played Burt and able to lift up the entire backdrop of the house in Mary Poppins, and this was in eighth grade. Who knew how far her strength had come now that she was a senior?), to go into a trance of fury. But instead, I heard Monica's stressed yet light voice vibrating through the air, not heavy but very airy, like she couldn't believe what had been spoken to her.

"Esmeralda _Trouillefou_!" she gasped, the click of her heels filling my ears. "That is no way to speak to your captain and you fucking know it!" When Monica cursed, she meant business. But- she always cursed! Did that mean that she always meant business? Or that she didn't only curse because she was serious? I rolled my eyes at my messed up thoughts. I could think about this some other time. There was some serious drama going on right now.

Esmeralda gave a weird nose, something like a cross between a laugh, a cough, and a snort. "If you don't take that video down," she said in a determined and angered voice, speaking as if the fact was obvious, "you're not going to be my captain any longer!"

Another pause, this time much longer and more scary. Did Esmeralda just say that she was going to leave the cheerleading team?

Monica coughed, shattering the stressed silence. "Are you saying that you're going to quit the cheer squad?" Her voice had dropped to a high whisper. She couldn't believe her teammate's words either.

"If you don't stop this insanity, yes!" came Esmeralda's fresh voice. No! That- that was impossible! Yes, Esmeralda never fit in with the bitchy, terrifying cheerleaders, the ones who wore gallons of makeup and cared only about their looks, reputation, and the amount of sex that they got from their boyfriends, but she couldn't just quit like that! Even if she didn't ever really fit in, everyone just described her as being five things- gorgeous, kind, a great dancer, captain of the dance team, and a member of the cheer squad. And without being a member of the cheer squad, her popularity would go down, and she wouldn't seem as significant to the school. She would seem kind of pushed aside, would seem less important. And she definitely was important to Notre Dame High, I'll tell you that.

A long, shaky, aggravated sigh came from Monica's ruby red lipstick covered lips. "Fine," she said, the word coming out as if she was a bratty child giving in to their mother's request, something that they didn't want to do at all. "I'll take the video down. For your sake on the team." She gave another sigh, this one longer and more stressed-out. "And just to get on your good side, I'll delete it from my phone."

"Thank you."

"But keep in mind, I'm only doing this because I like you, Esmie," Monica spoke, her tone flat and drained of emotion. I wasn't exactly sure if this was true. I'd always seen Monica and Esmie talking in between classes, sometimes giggling and smiling, but I didn't know if they were exactly friends. They were two completely different people, lived in totally different worlds and had totally different morals and ideals. And even now, Monica was speaking to Esmeralda as if Monica was the boss of a huge company and Esmeralda was a mere employer who was getting on the boss's good side. Monica paused for a moment, tapping her foot against the tile. "Cheer Regionals is in November, you know, and the cheer squad needs you. Like, really needs you. We can't possibly make it past regionals if our co-captain quits the team." Under the door of the stall, I could see her heel spinning around. "Keep that in mind, Esmie."

Oh, and another thing- Esmeralda is the cheer squad's co-captain. And now you see why she's on Monica's good side.

I started to hear the clicking of high heels and flats across the dirty, hard floor as Esmeralda sighed.

"I will, Monica, I will."

The door opening. The clicking of heels, but further away. The door closing. The door locking.

Silence.

I stood up, stretching out my legs, and clasped my hands together in prayer.

"I'd like to take this time to thank you for Esmeralda Trouillefou," I muttered with my head bowed, hoping that God or at least an angel could hear me from all the way from Jefferson County, New York. I opened the stall door, met with the wretched sight of wet paper, broken mirrors, and notes scrawled all over the walls, all of which had chipping, pale pink paint covering them. I took one last glance of the large, intimidating words **ANNEMARIE LYDELL RUNS THIS SHIT! BOW DOWN TO YOUR QUEEN, NDHS!** before quickly turning around and walking out of the bathroom, met with the sight of an empty hallway and the sound of my own flats hitting the clean, tiled floor.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that I definitely couldn't go back to the cafeteria. I wouldn't be able to stand getting stared at and having tons of giggles directed at me. No, the cafeteria was out. So then, where would I go? What would I do with the rest of my lunch period, which was going to last another fifteen minutes?

I sighed, adjusting the strap of my small, white purse over my broad shoulder. I suppose that I could walk through the halls of this school, look at all my old classrooms, and take a little trip down memory lane. After all, this was my last year in Notre Dame High School before I went off to some fancy college somewhere in New York City or something. I didn't have many more opportunities to walk around the school. No, once I left for college next September, I was never coming back here.

"Well," I muttered, turning around and walking towards the freshman section of the large high school, "may as well get started."

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**So, Esmeralda and Monica are pissed off at each other, mystery behind this Annemarie Lydell character (who's actually important, so please pay attention to the references that will be made to her in future chapters), and Leslie is taking a trip down memory lane. What will she see, or more importantly, _who_ will she see?**

**Yeah, I'm sorry that there's no Queslie in this one, but there will be a HUGE Queslie scene next chapter! It'll come out either this weekend or next week, so sit tight! Because another chapter is in the process of being written, and will be ON IT'S WAY!**

**And ALSO: There's a website called gizoogle . com. Put the link to this story in the search box. Be prepared to laugh your ass off! It's basically like the ghetto version of this fanfic... I honestly peed myself laughing, no joke! I swear, you'll die.**

**One more thing! I actually, um, kind of need inspiration for this fanfic. I need fillers to go with the main plot! So if any of you have ideas about what you want to happen or what you want to see in this fanfic, please tell me! I'll be happy to use your ideas! **

**THIS IS DRAGON SISTER KELSI SIGNING OFFFFF UNTIL NEXT CHAPTER!**

**~Kelsi**


	9. The Boy Who Tied My Shoes

**HIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**

**Oh my gosh, I could be a Van Buren. I've already got the greeting down pat. (For those of you who watch MPGIS on YouTube)**

**So, happy weekend! School is in full swing, which means I'll be putting up chapters less frequently :( I know, it sucks, but I'm currently at a 94.5 average and I need to get my average up to at least a 95 if I want to make high honor roll. So more time with school stuff, which means less time with fanfiction. I'm so sorry guys :(**

**BUT I will try and post at least a chapter every two weeks! And I'll do a lot of fanfiction work on the weekends, soooooo that means more chapters than you think. Maybe once a week if I really write a lot per day :)**

**SO, WE HAD SOOOO MANY REVIEWERS THIS CHAPTER!**

**newbornphanatic**

**SCB (actually, I was thinking about Alice when I made Annemarie's last name 'Lydell'! But Annemarie has no relation to Alice)**

**LOVEISLIFE**

**MaidenMyth**

**CharlieGreene**

**SummertimeRose**

**LexisTexas2000 (I used an app called 'PicCollage' on my iPod to make the title cover)**

**xxxMadameMysteryxxx**

**Wow. We have a lot of reviewers. Thanks so much, guys! If I could personally thank all of you and hug you, I would :) But I can't :(**

**OH AND OF COURSE I'd like to thank Jamie and Adrianna for being perfect and reading the chapters. And I'd like to thank Mobina for being perfect, even when she hasn't been reading the chapters ("too many words" is not a relevant excuse, gurl). :) ILY GUYS**

**Here's chapter nine, and rest assured there is plenty of Queslie in this one :)**

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**Chapter Nine: The Boy Who Tied My Shoes**

_June 13th, 2011_

"_Leslie_…"

I looked at my boyfriend as he struggled to find the right words, his mouth moving quickly but no sound coming out. His eyes were full of a kind of longing, a desire to get away and leave something. My heart nearly stopped beating in that moment, and I stood still, my feet freezing in time and refusing to move. I knew that our relationship was a mess, and I'd known for weeks. I was overprotective, society's regular image of a clingy bitch, the opposite idea of my beloved boyfriend's dream girl. I thought that I was that girl, the one, and I'd always thought that we could last throughout the rest of high school. But ever since I heard the rumor that he wanted to dump me for some other, curvier, sexier girl, I'd been feeling my world slowly stop spinning. What would life be like when I was single again? "_Single_"… it sounded like a foreign word to me, the syllables crashing against each other and forming a mismatched tune. I didn't want that label! I wanted to be his, all his and only his!

_Please don't end it, please don't tell me it's over, just give me another chance to fix things, please! I'm begging you, please-!_

"It's over."

Those two words were all it took to send me into a strange sort of trance, one where it seemed as though my feet were in cement and my heart was made of complete ice. I opened my mouth, making a few sharp, strange noises, ones that would come from an animal, but I found that I couldn't form a single word. Nothing would come out, no matter how I hard I pushed the words up my throat. My tongue had come completely numb, as did my trembling jaw and sweaty lips, the lips that he would definitely never kiss at this point.

It was hard to wrap my brain around the fact that Andrew Mathlin, my boyfriend of nearly four months, had just flat out dumped me in the middle of a hallway of Notre Dame High School. Told me it was over. Cut the final straw of our relationship. The cells that made up my flesh began to vibrate, a dark, gaping hole appearing where my heart should have been. He was right next to me, his eyes staring into mine and begging me to leave him and never turn back, and yet, he seemed like he was millions of miles away, absolutely untouchable. I'd been longing to kiss him, dreamed of falling asleep in his embrace, pleading with the night stars to be able to hug him and kiss his pale lips and hold hands in the hallway in between classes like normal couples do, but instead our relationship had been that slightly-more-than-friend kind, the kind where a kiss on the cheek was rare, where one person wanted to take things to the next level and the other could never even think about actually leaving the level that they were on.

My eyes stung just from looking at him, the person who I could never have. "_Andrew._" I spoke his name softly, the word lightly rolling off of my lips and falling to the floor, where it shattered and broke. Trying to save things was meaningless, speaking his name that dramatically had no point to it whatsoever. He was done, and that was it. It was then that I finally realized that I'd messed up, and I'd lost him.

I'd lost him_ forever._

I turned away from him, my legs shaking with pain and absolute fear. What was I going to do, now that I didn't have him? There were people all around us, struggling to get to their next class, but I didn't care about them, or if they saw me shaking like a madman. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there, leave behind the hallway, the school, the town- I just wanted to disappear. I'd been with Andrew for only three months, crushing on him for about six, and even after this short amount of time, I couldn't imagine what life would be like if he was gone. If I was given back the label of "single", I had no idea how I would spend my days. What would I do, now that I had no one to smile at, no reason to get out of bed for school in the morning, no person to text in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep? I wanted him, I wanted all of him, and now he was gone. And the chances were, he would never even meet eyes with me again.

I started walking, my feet feeling heavier than a stack of bricks, but surprisingly, I walked quickly, the sound of my sneakers slapping against the tiled floor becoming uneven and unsteady. The full realization that he was gone was hitting me then, the weight starting to make itself comfortable on my shoulders. Single. Single. Single. The letters started appearing one by one in my throbbing head as I sped through the large crowd making their way down the stars, the sun beginning to make its way through the gloomy, heavy rain clouds. All I could think about, all I could see, was him. His chocolaty eyes, his chubby cheeks, his chapped lips and crooked teeth. He was adorable, he was the living definition of perfection, and I believed that he always would be.

My walking got slower as I crossed the clunky, blue bridge in between buildings, gravity pushing against my feet. Each step sent a new wave of pain through me, each breath reminded me that I was no officially living without him. Our relationship had made me so joyful, so lighthearted, so full of hope! I finally had someone that loved me, finally had somewhat of a Prince Charming, someone that I'd wanted to have for so long- a boyfriend. Every time I looked at him, my stomach did flips, and when he smiled at me my heart raced. I just cared about him so much… And now all that love had been turned to absolute pain, the feeling clawing at my insides and turning my heart into a burdened weight. The world around me was going numb, the cool air in the bridge not making me shiver or bothering me one bit. What was really making me shiver was the fact that I no longer had him, the boy who I'd cared about for so long, who had sunk a hand into my chest and pulled out my heart slowly and painfully.

The pain was sinking into me so much that I could barely breathe by the time I reached the other building, realizing that I was a few hallways down from my next class- the music wing. I had spent a huge amount of time there that year, running to chorus rehearsals with the girls and singing my heart out for Mrs. Amour, the sweetest chorus teacher in the world. Chorus actually happened to be my next class, the room just yards away from me, but the pain in my chest and the wetness of my eyes told me that I wouldn't be able to go into the room without making a complete fool of myself. If I got there, maybe Mrs. Amour would be able to pull me aside and comfort me. The woman whose husband had been arrested and baby had been stolen from her would definitely understand the pain of a young girl whose boyfriend had just dumped her.

What I didn't notice in that moment was that the laces of my sneakers were untied.

Even though I was determined to get to the chorus room and speak with the kindhearted Mrs. Amour, couldn't move at all, every inch of me frozen in time, heart beating painfully as I thought of the smile that I'd never see directed towards me again, the eyes that would never meet mine. I literally couldn't stop thinking about him. Such a fool I was, to have thought that my name would one day have been Leslie Mathlin. I still laugh at the very thought of it, thinking that I would spend my whole life with my first boyfriend, my first relationship, even though I had screwed it up horribly. My clinginess had crushed everything that we could possibly be.

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next period, and I noticed that the hallway was completely empty, all students having made it to their next classes. My eyes were soaking wet, covered with a thick layer of tears. The last time I'd cried was that Monday, when I'd heard the rumor that Andrew wanted to end things, and had sat on my bed and cried for about fifteen minutes before Adrianna had cheered me up by telling me hilarious racist jokes. And by the stinging sensation that had been flaming at the corners of my eyes and at the back of my head, Niagara Falls would soon be released, tears would come out in heavy waves, right in the middle of this empty hallway. I prayed that no one would see me, the numbness in my chest slowly turning into hot, searing pain. I had to get to Mrs. Amour. I had to.

**He's gone away**  
**For to stay a little while**

**But he's coming back if he goes**  
**Ten thousand miles**

My ears perked up when I heard the Women's Chorus in the other room start coming together and singing my favorite piece for this year's spring concert, the three voice parts mixing together in perfect harmony, like three ingredients in a smoothie coming together and creating something delicious, something beautiful. "He's Gone Away"- I'd always thought of the song as a melancholy lullaby, a slow symphony to be sung by a girl whose lover had just left her to go on some far off adventure. The hot tears began to build up at the corners of my eyes and spill over my bright red cheek, a soft, steady stream of depression and utter pain. This song would fit me perfectly- if Andrew was coming back to me. And if he was my lover.

One sided love is the most painful of all types of love. Jamie had once told me that love is like two people holding a rubber band- when one person lets go, it snaps and hurts the other person that held on.

**Oh, who will tie my shoes?**

The three, angelic voice parts came together, hitting me in the chest and causing me to stumble on my own shoelaces as I started walking towards the classroom. I hit the cold, hard floor with a sort of skidding sound, throwing my hands out in front of me as a simple reflex as I fell. My bones ached with pain, and my palms screamed for relief, red with pressure. I was on my hands and knees in the middle of an empty hallway, struggling to keep myself up, and I was crying over someone who had stopped caring for me long ago.

**And who will glove my hands?**

The soprano voice section rose above all others, hitting a dreadfully high note at the word "glove". I could always hit that note easily, my throat opening up and letting the height of my range loose, the note bouncing off of the walls and quickly filling up the room. Mrs. Amour had once told me that I have one of the purest soprano voices that she's ever heard, but I don't like to brag about it. After all, I'm sure that every year girls with beautiful, high pitched voices come into the high school and are told by Mrs. Amour that they have gorgeous, pure voices. I was one of those girls, of course.

**And who will kiss my ruby lips**  
**When he is gone?**

My knees and hands, trembling fiercely, went weak, and my whole body collapsed onto the floor, my head pounding from the sharp pains in my chest and stomach. All I could think about was him, his beautiful eyes and the pinkness of his cheeks, the face that I would never get to kiss and the hands that would never hold mine. I'd always imagined us living out our lives together, and now that he'd ended things… It just hurt horribly bad to know that the fantasy future that I'd spent hours constructing would never in a million years happen. It hurt so bad that it had caused me to trip over my untied shoelaces and end up on the floor in tears.

**Oh, he's gone**  
**Look away**  
**Over the hills**

"I'm a pessimist," Jamie had once told me after she flat out failed a chemistry exam and didn't stress about her grade. "I don't get my hopes up too high, because if I do, it's easier for me to get hurt when something doesn't turn out the way I expected it to." When she said that, I had scrunched up my eyebrows and shook my head at her, sighing. Only now do I truly understand what she meant. When you totally convince yourself that something is going to happen and then the exact opposite of that something occurs, you're left disappointed, and sometimes disappointment comes in the form of tears and pain. This was one of those cases. I felt just like a child not getting what they wanted, throwing a tantrum and trying to convince their parents to get them a certain toy with their tears. Except I couldn't help these tears. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pick myself up off of the floor and wipe the tears away.

**He's gone away**  
**For to stay a little while**

By then, I was sobbing, soft animal noises coming out of my raw, strained throat, the tears showing no sign of stopping. I was a complete mess, my hands red from the pressure of the ground and my knees stinging from the fall that had happened just a few moments ago. I loved him so much, had become so attached to him and given him everything that I could possibly give, and what did he do with that? Decided that I was "too much of a stick-thin, clingy bitch", and thrown all those feelings away. I wasn't good enough for him. I would never even come close to being good enough for him. And if I wasn't good enough for the boy who'd held my heart for so long, who was I good enough for? No one. I would always be too serious, too clingy, too weak. Oh, it hurt so much! The pain was unbearable!

_Tap-tap-tap-tap_. I froze, the tears still streaming down my face and tickling my cheeks as I listened to the noise. Footsteps.

I started panicking, trying to get off of the floor but failing miserably, only succeeding in crashing down again and causing myself more pain, my hip stinging horribly as I hit the cold ground. I couldn't let anyone see me! It would be far too much of an embarrassment, would cause me to cry even harder from being seen. I couldn't possibly have that happen to me! But from the weakness of my body and the numbness in my arms and legs, I would have no choice but to sit there and cry as I was stared and laughed at.

Maybe, if I shut my eyes, the humiliation wouldn't be so bad. Maybe they wouldn't see me if I couldn't see them.

**But he's coming back if he goes**  
**Ten thousand miles**

I don't know how long I sat there with my eyes shut, the tears pushing against my eyes and escaping through the cracks in my tight eyelids- it seemed like forever. And during that forever, the footsteps got closer, my heartbeat growing heavier with every step that I heard. I was surprised that I could hear anything else over my soft, uneven sobbing, but I heard, loud and clear, the heavy footsteps, soft crashes against the floor. I was struggling to breathe, the humiliation mixing with the pain of losing Andrew, and when I shut my eyes all I could see was his face, as if his appearance had been tattooed on the insides of my eyelids. I couldn't bear all of this at once. It was as if I was getting a small taste of hell, a demon that was circling around me and tormenting my heart. No one should have to go through this kind of pain, especially not someone as young as I was.

I was thinking about demons and pain and humiliation and Andrew, my thoughts all jumbled together like a knot, confusion rising up in my throat, making it impossible for me to breathe. And that confusion seemed like it couldn't be tamed or captured by anything, would remain there forever, and I'd eventually die from lack of air. Eventually, the footsteps stopped, and I became aware of someone's presence, someone standing right over me. The lump in my throat grew, blocking off all possible airways, and I began choking on my own tears-

"Are you okay?"

And everything stopped. The pain, the lack of air, the demons, Andrew- it all stopped. That voice was beautiful, the sound of bells ringing through the air, the notes mixed together in a simple, beautiful melody, the song of an angel that was powerful enough to demolish any demon. And I swear, I felt the demon that was sitting on top of my chest fly away, jump off of me and disperse into thin air. I opened my eyes.

**Oh, it's mammy who'll tie my shoes**

Standing over me was a mysterious figure, a boy who seemed to be about my age. He was wearing a large, silver and black sweatshirt with the school mascot on it- a silver and black dragon. He wore baggy, worn out jeans, dirt-brown colored sneakers on his feet. He was hunched over, standing at an awkward position, and appeared to have a rather large hump on his back. But the hood of the sweatshirt was covering his face in a strange way, and all I could see was the lower half of his face- his lips, more specifically. It was like he didn't want me to see what he looked like.

I looked at him for a moment, gulping, the last amount of confusion being swallowed down. The tears were still there, sticking to my red cheeks, but my eyes were no longer producing any more of them. I stared, wide-eyed at the mysterious boy, wondering how on Earth someone would be so kind as to ask a scrawny, sobbing girl if she was okay rather than taking pictures and laughing at her cruelly. At a school like this, strangers that would actually help you when you were on the ground were as rare as unicorns. It took me a few moments to process what was going on before I finally spoke to him, blue-green eyes wide and shining with a weird type of light. "N- not- not really."

**And pappy will glove my hands**

Suddenly, the boy did something strange, something that I didn't expect him to do. He crouched down, getting on one knee, and tied my right shoe, wrapping the hot pink laces around his fingers and making careful, precise knots. I watched in awe as the laces were wrapped around each other and tied tightly, his large, meaty fingers slowly going back over the knot and making sure that he made no mistake. My eyes were wide with surprise, and as he was tying my other shoe, I began watching his lips, focused, straightened, and opened ever so slightly, exposing the tips of pearly white, terribly crooked teeth. My breaths became shorter as his hand traced the side of my foot ever so slowly, looking over the knots and nodding at me. He seemed so uncomfortable, as if he'd never even touched another human being before.

I looked up, desperately wanting to meet the eyes that were past that hood. I coughed a bit, clearing my throat, which was covered in a thin layer of salty tears. "Thank you." My words were soft, gentle, and extremely true. How was it possible that this boy's very appearance had caused the demons around me to disappear and stop their taunting? Was he an angel? He had to be. There was no other explanation.

**And you will kiss my ruby lips**  
**When you come back**

We looked at each other for a moment, trying to look over the proportions of our bodies and what could have possibly brought us together in this moment in time. This boy was incredible. I'd never even seen him before, never known him, and he was stopping to tie my shoes and help me through this little moment of my suffering. Who was this angel, and how could he possibly have known to come help me?

Very slowly, he reached out a large hand, as if I were a tiger that had yet to be tamed and he was afraid that I would bite. He seemed so scared, so uncomfortable, so kindhearted and caring. I gently took his hand, causing him to jerk back a bit at the feeling of my hand in his, but then slowly brought it back, taking my thin fingers in his meaty ones. Poor thing, so uncomfortable around me that he feared my very touch. Where had he come from that he was afraid of me, afraid of being around other human beings? Had he lived his whole life in isolation, unable to even think about human contact? This was all that ran through my mind as he helped me to my feet, which had surprisingly become strong enough to keep me standing.

**Look away**

I stared at him, my mind running with curiosity. Who was this creature? Where did he come from, and why was he hiding his face from me? I began to reach out a hand, slowly and gently, and even then, he jumped a bit, holding his breath. I pulled my fingers back ever so slightly, looking at him with the most calm look I've ever put on. "I'm not going to hurt you," I said softly, giving a subtle smile. I had to be as kind and calm as possible, careful not to frighten the poor boy. "Here, I just want to see what you look like-"

"N-_no_!" He immediately began stepping back, shielding his covered face with his hands, as if I were about to reach out and strike him. Fear pressed up against all sides of my chest, and I began taking a few steps towards him. "I- I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," I began to say, but was stopped when he immediately turned away from me and began running.

**Look away**

"No wait!" I cried, leaning forward and reaching out, wanting to touch his face and speak to him for real, regretting what I had done. His run was incredibly awkward, hobbling down the hallway with his limbs flailing strangely, as if he were injured badly. I held my breath as I watched him, not thinking about chasing him. That would only bring more fear to the poor creature.

"Come back, please!" I called, praying that I wasn't disturbing the other classes. All I wanted was to talk to this angel, find out where he was from, why he had helped me. But all I could do was call out to him as he ran down an empty hallway, cry for a face that I hadn't seen. Even when he disappeared around the corner, I didn't stop reaching out and trying to get him to come back.

"I-" I swallowed, giving up and leaning against the lockers. Once again, I was lonely, a terrible feeling that plays with your heartstrings and clouds your mind. My voice dropped to a low whisper, and I ran my fingers through my hair slowly as I remembered his bell-like voice ringing through the air around me. "I didn't even catch your name."

**Over the hills**

That boy was my angel. And from that day on, I knew that no matter what terrible situation I was in, he would be there, comforting me and helping me through the tears. I think that knowing that an angel was watching over me was what made my four other breakups less painful.

* * *

_Present Day_

"Leslie?"

The familiar voice caused me to snap out of my crazy flashback and look towards the source of the sound, my chest filling with that familiar warm feeling when I saw Quasimodo standing at the end of the hallway. His lips were curved slightly upward into a subtle smile, his eyebrows raised a bit, as if he were surprised that he found me here. I smiled awkwardly, the tips of my perfectly straightened teeth showing a bit as they pushed up against my lips, forcing them open ever so slightly. Great. I'd spent two seemingly-eternal years with braces and I still had obnoxious front teeth. "Hey, Quasimodo," I called in the most friendly tone that I could, motioning for him to come to me.

Quasimodo quickly made his way to me, hobbling across the empty hallway in that strange, awkward way, his eyes locked on me as he ran. I couldn't stop smiling, noticing how his refreshing, green eyes sparkled with some kind of comfort, something that said, "I'll be okay here."

He reached me, standing a few feet from my side. He looked pretty nervous, unsure if he could really trust me. I honestly didn't expect him to. I'd stood up for him once and actually spoken to him once briefly. You usually don't fully trust someone who's just reached out to you, even when they're the only person that ever has. I let out a short breath. I had to be calm and gentle, I had to get him to believe that I was here to help him. "Um, how've you been since we last talked?" I swallowed awkwardly, then unnecessarily added, "which was a few hours ago." I have to admit, talking with the school nobody was awkward, and even though I had many questions to ask him, I didn't quite know how to begin a conversation with him.

He smiled, still looking a bit shy around me. "A-Alright," he said, kind of stuttering at the beginning of the word, hinting that things, in fact, were not alright. I wouldn't expect them to be. After all, this was the boy whose face had been retweeted and laughed at countless times over social networks. I nodded, giving an understanding look. He looked down at his feet for a moment, the undeniable air of shyness coming back, and then looked up at me again. "How about you?"

I shrugged. "Well, I just got a pie tin of whipped cream shoved in my face, and I've spent the last five minutes reminiscing about my first break up." I smiled awkwardly. "Eh, things could be better." Inside, I was slapping myself in the face. What a wonderful way to continue a conversation, Leslie. You should get a gold medal.

Quasimodo looked at me, deeply concerned. "What- what do you mean, 'a pie-'?"

I cut him off. "Monica," I said, shaking my head quickly. "It's really not a big deal, nothing to be worried about. That's just her." Bonus points for reminding him about the bitch who told him to kill himself. The two of us would have the most awkward friendship ever.

He nodded a bit, and for a moment we stood there, my gaze shifting to the wall of lockers in front of me. Here is where the tall, flat-chested freshman girl sat and sobbed her eyes out after her first boyfriend dumped her and crushed her dreams. An average heartbroken girl who had her head too far up in the clouds to realize what was happening back down on Earth.

"So, um, shouldn't you be at lunch now?" Quasimodo's words caused me to spin around and face him, my arm slowly moving up my purse strap. He looked curious, interested in me, the gaze that reminded me of freshman Andrew when he asked me a question about myself. Wanting to know more about me.

I shivered a bit at the mere memory of the chubby boy before answering. "I didn't really want to go back after the pie tin scene." I shook my head slowly. "So I just decided to come back here, take a little trip down memory lane." I smiled again. "May as well enjoy the good things about this school while I can." The good things. You could rarely find good things in an average high school anymore. All of it just comes down to drama and war, and I'd been learning that the hard way.

His next question was one that I wasn't expecting at all. "What was this school like when you were a ninth grader?"

I paused, looking back into his curious, green eyes, a quick shiver making its way down my spine. That question required a huge amount of thought, a lot of reflection. I sighed. "To be honest, ninth grade was a huge blur." This was true. I couldn't remember much about the year, and the memories that I could think back too were short and choppy, lasting only a few seconds, like when you wake up and you can only remember various fragments from your dream, so you have to piece the moments together to remember what happened. That was what ninth grade was like. A distorted, strange dream that took me such a long time to wake up from. "I do remember that there wasn't as much drama between the students as there is now." I shut my eyes, more strange memories coming up. "I was tall, thin as a stick, really awkward and kind of overdramatic." I sighed. "And I was in love."

It took a lot of effort to keep talking to him, my eyes opened. All I was looking at was the very spot where the undeveloped twig had been sobbing her eyes out, her limbs sprawled out across the cold floor. "I was so in love that I had completely lost sight of what I was doing. I was clingy, I was overprotective, and then because of all that, he ended it. And when he ended it, I was just crushed. And I ran to this exact spot, fell on the floor and cried."

Quasimodo's eyes shone with pity, sadness, and at the same time, I thought that I could see a memory sparking somewhere in his head. "I- I'm sorry, Leslie." I nearly jumped with warmth when he said my name. Oh, God, his voice was gorgeous.

His voice…

_"Are you okay?"_ The words echoed softly from somewhere deep inside my core. A tidal wave of memories, a huge realization, several things clicking in the back of my head…

"You."

I turned to him, my eyes widened. He had the same voice, the same shape, the same strong, gentle touch. Everything made sense now, and I finally realized where my angel had gone. He was here, he had always been here, and now he was back, with the courage to finally speak to me.

"It's you." I smiled at him, the sadness dispersing and fading from my expression. "You're the boy who tied my shoes."

And the excited, jubilant, yet shy look on his face told me that I was absolutely correct.

* * *

**So much Queslie in one chapter.**

**I just**

**can't.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this one! I really enjoyed writing it. Long chapter is long, I know, but I hope that I satisfied your Queslie cravings.**

**_NEXT CHAPPIE_****: Jamie meets a cute guy, Adrianna and Niall have a serious conversation, Nicholas approaches Mobina, and we find out a little bit more about Monica's backstory.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! :)**

**~Kelsi**


	10. Miss Jamesyka Jackson

**SO UM HAI GUISE.**

**I know that I haven't posted in... (checks clendar. Yes, it's a clendar) About two weeks. BUT HURR I AM GUYS! And here's chapter ten! It's kind of a filler but isn't a filler, and there's a lot of cursing, and some pretty hot boys are involved here... so um... Beware?**

**THANK YOU TO OUR WONDERFUL AND BEAUTIFUL REVIEWERS:**

**newbornphanatic**

**CityCat**

**LexisTexas2000**

**DontEvenLookatMe**

**SummertimeRose**

**CharlieGreene**

**xxxMadameMysteryxxx**

**THANK Y'ALL SO MUCH (so apparently I'm southern now what?)**

**And I'd like to thank Jamie and Adrianna for being awesome and reading the chapters, and Mobina for being awesome and not reading the chapters. Y'all are my life :)**

**Here we go, guys! Please be sure to read and review at the end! THANK YOU!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Miss Jamesyka Jackson**

_One Week Later..._

_3rd Person/Jamie's POV_

Freshman year was a difficult time. Senior Jamesyka Jackson seemed to understand that more than anyone, because freshman year was probably the hardest year of her life so far.

Freshman year was the year that she'd completely fallen head over heels for the hunky Liam Payne and had her heart broken by him unknowingly when he kissed or just smiled at other girls.

Freshman year was the year that she would stare at her stomach in the mirror and cry, asking why the hell she had to be cursed with this horrible body.

Freshman year was the year that she would stay away from big crowds and parties and spend basically all of her time locked up in her room, listening to Adrianna tell pointless jokes over instant messenger. _("What's a pirate's favorite letter?" "R?" "No, the C!" "…" "Fuck you guys, I'm hilarious.")_

Freshman year was the year that she was giggled at and criticized for her clunky braces, not-so-curvy figure, and messy hairdo, talking about her faults and mistakes behind her back.

Freshman year was the year that her father gave up on her family and left unexpectedly, leaving behind a suicidal daughter and an ex-wife who couldn't afford to pay the bills on her own.

Freshman year was the year that her second boyfriend, a charming, good-looking junior named Jesse Calum, told her that he'd wanted to break up with her for months and dumped her completely unexpectedly at the junior prom.

Freshman year was the year that she'd finally had enough of the pain and spent a Friday evening sitting in her room with a bottle of anti-depressants in her hand, knowing that it would only take a few moments to swallow all of the pills, knowing that there was a gun hidden somewhere in the house, and sobbed her eyes out because she wanted to die so badly. She had a mouth full of pills- about twenty, to be exact- and was about to wash them down with water and let them do their worst damage on her body. And that's when the text from Adrianna came in.

_If you go, I'm going with you._

_No, Adrianna, please, I'm not worth it._

_I have a bottle of aspirin in my hand right now. I'll swallow them all if you don't spit those pills out._

_Please, no_

_I love you too much to go on living without you, Jamie. Remember that, please. I couldn't possibly take the pain of walking through school without you by my side, going home and wanting to chat on IM and seeing the letters AFK remaining next to your username. Life would be empty if I didn't have my Pajamie to go through it with me. Please, don't go or I'm going with you._

And she spit the pills out and spent the rest of the night sobbing in her bedroom, wondering why the hell Adrianna hadn't let her die. Didn't she understand that this life was literally a prison sentence?

It took a few months for her to stop reaching for the pills and thinking about how nice and lovely death would be, but she did. It took time, but she recovered, the wound closing and the scab that held it together eventually fading into plain skin.

Sophomore year was the year that the sisterly love from her friends convinced her to try and stay as positive as she could, which was a real challenge for her. To help with the new positive view on life, the girls took her to the mall, where she got a whole new look- the braces came off, new hairstyle, new wardrobe, the whole nine yards- a new reputation, and even a new name- Jamie. It rolled right off of the tongue, certainly beating Jamesyka, which sounded sharp and stuffed with different sounds, a name that lingered around in your mouth for awhile after you spoke it. Teachers were constantly pronouncing it wrong, and students kept repeating it to themselves the first time they heard it, tasting the syllables in their mouths and testing out the uncommon name. No, Jamie was much better, simpler and quite honestly a lot prettier.

Every now and then, she still thought about suicide, and occasional glances at the bottle of anti-depressants that remained on her desk weren't uncommon. But if there was one thing that her suicidal phase had taught her, it was that suicide eliminates the possibility of life getting better. If she had swallowed those pills that night in her room, her life would have ended, right then and there, and she wouldn't have been able to change herself for the better- she'd be dealing with the permanent answer to her temporary problem…

* * *

"Good afternoon, class!" came the obnoxious, nasally voice of Mr. Valkner, who had basically already won the title of "World's Most Boring Teacher". He spoke slowly, the syllables oozing out of his mouth like molasses, giving him the power to make even the most exciting topics boring as hell.

The entire class gave a synchronized sigh. "Good afternoon, Mr. Valkner," the students replied drearily, as if they were zombies and the school day had drained all of the life out of them. Jamie groaned, balling her hands into fists and letting her fingernails dig into her palms. She'd been dreading this period all day, as had everyone in the classroom, and just the very sound of Mr. Valkner's voice had told her that this was going to be a very long class, as it always was. The seconds would tick by, each minute seeming like an hour, and when the bell rang everyone was rushing to pack up their stuff and get out of that dreadfully hell-like classroom. No, scratch that- the classroom was hell. The whole school was hell, with demons standing at every corner just waiting for you to slip up, waiting for their opportunity to ridicule you and make hell even more of a torturous place. Monica was the queen of all those soulless, dark hearted demons- which basically means that _(plot twist!)_ Monica DeGiorno is Satan.

Well, that isn't too much of a plot twist. We've all known that since she started showing the school her true colors in sophomore year.

Leslo had once told her that it was really funny how _'school_' and '_vagina_' both had six letters and were dark, cramped voids that could hold screaming children for nine months. That was probably one of the truest statements about school in general that she had ever heard.

She was pulled back out of her thoughts when the irritating, obnoxious, and nasally voice of Mr. Valkner called the class to attention. "As you can recall," he said, the syllables stretched out, voice sounding like someone had pinched his nose as he spoke, "for the past few days, we've been speaking about the alcohol displacement experiment, taking notes and all of that, and today we're going to begin that experiment!" The class groaned heartily, dreading any sort of project ahead of them. Meanwhile, Mr. Valkner spoke with joy and excitement, as if this was the highlight of his year, something that he'd been looking forward to for months. Well, it probably was. Mr. Valkner was in his late thirties, a husband at home (his homosexuality had come as a shock to Jamie, but she eventually got over it and it became completely normal to her) and a two year old daughter who had just learned how to talk, and judging by the weariness of his deep brown eyes and his shaking figure, his life at home was tiring and stressful. Two year old daughters did that to you. Work, being a chemistry teacher at Notre Dame High School, was probably the highlight of his day, a place to escape the whines of his little girl and the needs of his husband. Sure, they must have been great people, but even though having a family is great and all, it's stressful and tiring, sometimes even aggravating. Jamie had learned that the hard way, when her dad had abandoned her and her mother after being driven to fury. Yes, work seemed like a great place to get that stress out and do something that you loved.

The man opened a thin, black book, words scribbled out onto the pages in almost unreadable handwriting. "This experiment is going to require you all to be in pairs," he spoke, and suddenly the exhaustion and stress lifted from the room like a thick, dense cloud, the teenagers sitting up in their seats and smiling and winking at their friends from across the room. The girl sitting in front of Jamie with thin, chestnut colored curls turned around, giving a cheeky smile. Adrianna Jenner. "What do you say, Pajamie?" Adrianna whispered, poking her friend in the arm. "The dynamic duo, working on the liquor dis-patchment project?"

Jamie giggled, causing Adrianna's cheeks to turn a playful shade of red. Ever since the two girls met in the middle of seventh grade, Adrianna had been saying that she loved the sound of Jamie's laughter, how it vibrated through the air and sounded somewhat like wind chime . "First of all," Jamie whispered, "it's called the _alcohol displacement_-"

"Well I don't _give_ two shits about what it's called!" Adrianna whined as silently as she could, as not to be glared at or given a talking to by Mr. Valkner for "massively rude interruption of the class" while "using foul language". She'd already gotten scolded in front of the whole class this year, at the end of which Mr. Valkner rubbed his temples and said, "I have a feeling that this isn't going to be a very good year, Miss Jenner." As soon as he turned his back on the girl, Adrianna stuck her tongue out at him, waving it around in an awkward way and gaining a massive amount of laughter from the class. Mr. Valkner stood there confused for about five or six seconds before slowly proceeding with the lesson.

"You should," Jamie muttered, rolling her eyes and rapidly tapping her pen on her three ring binder. "We're getting graded on this, you know. You should probably start caring more about your grades, babe." This, however, wasn't all that true. Adrianna did care about her grades, spending time studying for quarterly exams and finals, doing all of her homework, and would even spend time reviewing homework with Jamie, Mobina and Leslie during lunch. However, the girl would much rather spend her leisure time listening to music, texting her friends or spending time with Niall, and because of this she put relaxing and being with friends before studying and doing homework. Well, could you blame her? Most teenagers would put that stuff before schoolwork, some would put absolutely anything before schoolwork. The work that was given at Notre Dame High School was hard, requiring a consistent amount of time and effort, and slacking off was a very common term around the teenage population of Jefferson County, New York.

Adrianna sighed as she gave her friend a subtle poke in the arm. "Eh. I've got bigger things to start caring about." Suddenly, the girl moved her eyebrows around playfully, giggling like mad. "Like why nothing's sparked between you and _Li-Li_ yet."

Li-Li. The girls' nickname for Liam Payne. The hunk who had been Jamie's number one crush since eighth grade.

Jamie furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance, but couldn't help but smile at the mention of the boy's nickname. "Can you not?" she groaned, jabbing Adrianna in the shoulder blade with the point of her pen.

"Jamie, if you like him, go and get him already! Ask him to be your partner!" Adrianna encouraged as Mr. Valkner explained the basic lab rules (no running around, no roughhousing, follow the directions exactly, blah, blah, blah). "We can't keep playing the 'you should meet my girlfriend's friend' card. Niall can't keep bringing you up in conversations and trying to play matchmaker anymore."

Jamie sighed. She'd always dreamed of the day that she would finally get the chance to talk to the football player- who, by the way, was leaning back in a chair across the room, low-cut t-shirt that exposed his bare chest, his chestnut brown hair shaved so short that it just looked like a blanket of fur on top of his head. His deep brown eyes were dulled with boredom, and even then Jamie could find them interesting to stare at. He was tall, muscular, undeniably sexy. God, if Jamie had a dick, just thinking about him would give her a mental boner… which meant that she would be gay if she was a guy… oh, who the fuck cares? If she were a guy, she'd still be in love with him, still be jealous of all the girls who were able to get close to him and actually talk to him, girls who just wanted him for sex. Meanwhile, Jamie had been daydreaming about what it would be like just to be kissed by Liam for five years- Five. Mother. Fucking. Years.

Adrianna was right. She had to be proactive, step up and start talking to him. How did all those pretty, big-boobed girls with gallons of makeup get close to him? They actually came out of the shadows and talked to him. Maybe Liam would like her if she showed him her real personality, who she really was. Maybe he would care about her and stay with her, unlike her ex boyfriend, who came in like a wrecking ball and wre-e-ecked her (thank you, Miley Cyrus). This chemistry project was her opportunity to talk to him, ask him politely to be his partner. Who knew? Maybe something would spark between them…

The chemistry teacher cleared his throat, gaining the attention of Jamie and Adrianna. "I've put you all with partners that I believe will help you work hard and get the work done without fooling around," Mr. Valkner announced, opening the black book slowly and looking around from student to student.

Wait- _what!?_ They couldn't pick their partners? Wow. And there went all of Jamie's beautiful plans, straight into the fiery pit of hell aka Monica's vagina.

The whole class gave a synchronized groan of pain and misery, as if they'd rather be anywhere but here. What!? Oh come on, man! That's unfair! _Totally unfair!_ This is America! Land of the free and home of the _brave_! They should be free to pick their partners and brave enough to ask their crushes to be partnered with them! No! The founding fathers didn't work their asses off writing the Declaration of Independence for this shit!

"Please keep in mind that these will be your partners for the rest of the quarter." Mr. Valkner cleared his throat, starting to read off of a page in his notebook, standing up straight and tall so that his words would seem more assertive and louder. "Harry Styles and Danielle Kramer."

The lighter haired one of the Kramer twins squealed, gathering her books and jumping out of her seat, practically skipping over to where Harry was sitting. Harry Styles was the captain of the football team, a serious hottie, with chocolate brown curls and deep green eyes. Muscular, strong, the whole nine yards. Girls were all over his dick about how good he was at the sport and how sweet and kind he was, when all they really wanted to do was eat his face off with their rough kisses and get in bed with him. He was a flaming homosexual, though, secretly dating the adorable Louis Tomlinson, another football player. The poor things had to hide their relationship from the school, as not to be mocked or suspended by the tyrant known as Vice Principal Frollo, who hated gays, gypsies, and basically ninety percent of the students at NDHS. So Louis had to date the quiet yet beautiful cheerleader known as Eleanor Calder, who barely anyone has heard speak a single word, and successfully covered up the relationship of the two.

Someone groaned from behind, and Jamie turned around, looking at the muscular, adorable Louis Tomlinson, teeth gritted and cheeks turning bright red as he watched Danielle coat Harry's cheek with kisses and basically push her boobs into his face. Damn slut. She was almost as worse as Satan. "Honey, he _gay_," Louis growled, brown eyes locked on the curvy cheerleader, sending Jamie into a wild giggling fit.

Jamie had the inside scoop about the members of the football team, probably knew more about them than Monica would ever know or post on her twitter account. She was actually good friends with a few of them, like Niall and Louis, who were really awesome people. Being practically sisters with Niall Horan's girlfriend had some perks.

"Quasimodo Frollo and Gabrielle Kramer," Mr. Valkner spoke, causing something inside Jamie to melt a bit out of pity. Yeah, she really wanted to avoid the horrid looking boy, and never wanted Leslay's chips' reputation to go down the drain by reaching out to him, but still, she didn't think that he would have to suffer because of his looks. It had become clear that he was the main target of the cheer squad this year, their mocking and picture-taking not stopping over the past few weeks. It was only three weeks into the school year, and the poor thing was already getting tortured. Instead of cringing when she looked at him, she pitied him now. She had gone through Monica DeGiorno AKA Satan's torture, and she knew that no one should have to go through that kind of hell.

Gabrielle took one look at him and gave a loud, obnoxious groan, blinking her makeup-covered eyelid multiple times, as if she thought that if she closed her eyes, he'd go away. But he was still there, shaking with fear as if he were a frightened animal facing their abusive master, covering his face with his hands in shame and whimpering a bit. Jamie sighed, her heart throbbing with guilt. Poor thing. Just one week ago, she was telling Leslo not to talk to him, but it seemed that the boy needed a friend. Leslie had said that he was very sweet, almost angelic, even, to which Jamie had rolled her eyes and groaned. But now that she saw him under the wrath of the cheer squad, he seemed like a lost puppy, an abandoned young child. She wanted to help him, but she didn't want the reputation that she had worked to hard to establish get ruined. She didn't want to go back to the old Jamesyka Jackson, who cried herself to sleep at night and was picked on constantly for her flaws. Befriending Quasimodo would become a flaw, right?

Jamie spotted Gabrielle leaning over to where Daniella was sitting, whispering something very loudly. It sounded almost like "why did I have to get stuck with the monster?" or something like that, and the cheerleader sat down in the empty seat next to the young hunchback with a frustrated look on her face, looking as far away from him as possible as to avoid eye contact at all costs, as Mr. Valkner was calling the next two names. "Adrianna Jenner and Louis Tomlinson."

Louis squealed with happiness, picking up his things and rushing over to the empty seat next to Adrianna. The two hugged gleefully, bouncing in their seats, excited as ever to be working together. Well, what did you expect from the adorable Louis Tomlinson and one of his closest girl friends, the energetic Adrianna Jenner? Nothing but bubbles and hugs and kisses. The two would probably be giggling and squealing throughout the whole assignment. God, if Louis was gay, Jamie would have shipped him with Adrianna like FedEx. However, she shipped Larry and Nadrianna much more, so the current situation that the couples were in suited her.

Jamie watched Mr. Valkner move a smooth finger down the paper, looking over the next few names. Her heart raced, showing no signs of slowing down, and all she could do was pray to a God that she wasn't even sure existed. (High School can seriously make you question if there really is a God, and Jamie became atheism's next victim) _Please put me with Liam, please put me with Liam, please put me with Liam-_

"Nick Tangorra and Jamie Jackson."

_SON OF A GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING BI-ATCH!_ Jamie slammed a fist onto her binder, causing the desk beneath her to vibrate. No! No! And there went all of her plans. How could she possibly talk to Liam now, when she was paired up with some other random guy who wasn't Liam? She had a plan! And now that plan was ruined because of Mr. Valkner's partnering and because of some random guy- who wasn't Liam! She gave a groan of frustration, throwing her head back in anger. Nick Tangorra. All that she knew about him was that he was a member of the football team who'd broken his arm and had his heart broken by the gold-digging whore Sophia Smith who dumped him as soon as she found out that her boyfriend had swooped down to average level. She felt bad for him, terribly bad, and wanted him to find a good girl, one that wouldn't suddenly break his heart and use him for popularity. Any other day, she wouldn't have bothered working with him, but now, she was angry at him. Because he wasn't Liam.

She heard Adrianna whistle melodramatically from in front of her, earning the chestnut haired girl a sharp glare from her friend. "Cut the _shit_, nigga."

Adrianna rolled her eyes and turned around to face Louis as Jamie became aware of someone's presence next to her. She turned to face whoever was sitting in the open seat to her right- and there he was. The formerly-popular Nick Tangorra. He was about a head taller than her, a slender figure and nearly pale skin. He had deep brown hair done up into a quiff, covered in so much hair gel and grease that it looked fake, like an expensive wig, eyebrows thin and very dark and defined. His eyes were a unique color, the color of honey with gold flecks here and there. He was pretty attractive, yes- but he wasn't Liam. He wasn't as muscular and tan as Liam, he wasn't as strong and sexy as Liam. He wasn't Liam, and he'd never be Liam.

Nick turned to her, lips curving upwards into a sweet and somewhat shy smile. "How's it going?" he asked, being friendly and trying to make conversation, even though Jamie really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right then. "I'm Nick."

Jamie tried to smile, teeth sticking out awkwardly through her lips. "Jamie."

"Nice to meet you."

A nasally, projected voice cut off Nick's polite introduction. "Liam Payne and Sophia Smith." You mean Sophia Smith, the gold digging whore? The one who broke up with her boyfriend (who just so happened to be Nick Tangorra) after he had to leave the football team? Yes, that's the one. And rumor had it that she was after Liam's dick.

_FUCKING HELL, MAN!_ Jamie watched in agony as the big breasted yet small-assed Sophia bounced over to Liam, giving him a wink that looked like it was supposed to be sexy but actually made her look like a slut. Okay gold-digger, that's enough, you can get sucked into a black hole to an alternate dimension aka Monica's vagina now.

Martin Luther King did not dream for this shit! Miley Cyrus did not hop off the plane at LAX with a dream and a cardigan for this shit! Carly Ray Jepsen did not ask her boyfriend to call her maybe for this shit! Adele did not roll in the deep for this shit!

"What a slut," Jamie heard Nick mutter, and she turned to the honey-eyed boy who was shaking his head at his ex-girlfriend.

Jamie gave a soft and airy snort. "No kidding." Sophia was smiling at Liam, slowly unbuttoning the top of her shirt as to expose the mountains that lay underneath. "I ain't saying she a gold digga', but she ain't messin' with no broke nigga."

Nick laughed at that lyric recitation, his laughter kind of like a gong, pushing out quickly and ringing through the air awhile. It made Jamie want to stop everything that was going on in the world and listen to his laughing. He wasn't Liam, wasn't Liam at all, but he sure did have an attractive laugh. "Don't you love how there's a song lyric for nearly every situation?"

Jamie nodded quickly, turning away from Sophia and her big, awkward tits, which were painful to look at, anyway. "Yeah. Kind of hilarious, really. If only more people would make songs about gold-digging whores. Then we could really have some fun with her." She finally smiled without thinking about it, letting her lips curve upwards on their own and watching Nick's cheeks grow a bit pinker.

It took only a moment for Mr. Valkner to give out the rest of the partners, after which he gave out one of those "getting to know your partner" sheets. Damn, do they still do this in senior year? This stuff is from the sixth grade, maybe even the fifth. Jamie shrugged. "Let's get this over with," she sighed, staring down at the first question. "I guess I'll ask you first," she said, looking from the sheet to Nick, whose honey colored eyes had never left her face, like all he wanted to look at was her. It was kind of odd, really, and reminded her of the way that she'd imagined Liam would look at her for the first time. Feeling her heart sink, the girl moved her gaze down to the paper. "Okay, um, let's start with question one… How long have you lived in Jefferson County?"

He gave a polite smile. "Just a few years. My family and I moved here when I was in eighth grade."

"Oh, cool! I moved here when I was in seventh grade. Where did you come here from?"

He grinned proudly. "A mystical land full of wonder, dreams and fantasy."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "And what might that magical land be called?"

"New Jersey."

Jamie covered her mouth with her hand, giggles escaping through the cracks in her fingers. He may not have been Liam, but he was pretty funny. "I see." She coughed, giving a few last giggles before continuing. "I moved from Queens."

"Ah," Nick said, jotting something down on the paper. "New York City. What was it like?"

"Dirty, crowded, smelled like cigarette smoke all the time." Jamie rolled her eyes quickly. "Not the best part of the city, but at least it was decent most of the time."

Jamie smiled, looking down. "Alright, then. Let's move on. Um, do you have any siblings, Nick Tangorra?"

Nick was a pretty good guy, Jamie decided towards the end of that period. He was sweet, funny, and actually pretty cute, three great qualities that women look for in men.

But he wasn't hunky, or sexy, and she didn't daydream about him in class. He wasn't overly attractive, he didn't drive her crazy, and she didn't cry over him every time he looked at another girl because her heart couldn't take the pain.

He wasn't Liam. He could never possibly be Liam…

* * *

"Hey, Hunchback of Notre Dame!"

Jamie turned the corner just in time to see Satan and the Kramer twins walking away from Quasimodo, laughing as they glared at him struggling to pick up the rest of his books, which were scattered along the floor, being stepped on by other giggling students. "Bastards," Jamie muttered as she watched the hunchback gathering books, down on his knees, only to have them stepped on by other students. He looked lost, as if he knew that there was no hope for him, like he wanted to be absolutely anywhere except this fiery pit of hell… which was also Monica's vagina… which meant that the school was equivalent to Monica's genital area… which was pretty much one hundred percent accurate.

Jamie's eyes widened, and she blinked a few times as if to get a powerful image out of her sight. That was her once. On the ground, struggling to get her papers off of the floor as Annemarie Lydell (head cheerleader at the time) jabbed the end of her high-heel into Jamie's chunky side, saying that she'd never be anything to anyone, that she should just fuck off and disappear already. Annemarie was Satan at that time, the one that everyone knew to praise and avoid at the same time, and Jamie was Quasimodo, the main target of the queen of the school.

_Jamie was Quasimodo…_

"Fuck _off_!" she growled, pushing students out of the way as she leaned down and picked up a handful of stray books that lay on the floor, his eyes growing wide, as if he was looking at a ghost or an angel or something. He was shaking a bit, too, as if he was so shocked that he didn't believe what he was seeing. She knew that he didn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it either if someone had helped her when she was in that dark age of her life.

Jamie rolled her eyes quickly, looking up at him. Everything about his face was misshapen, from the lump that covered half of his left eye to the nose that stuck up awkwardly, like the nose of a pig or some strange creature. "She won't pick on you forever, you know." Jamie found herself saying, giving the poor boy a pile of binders. He took them from her nervously, his large, meaty hands shaking a bit. "Eventually, she'll forget about you and move on to her next victim like you never even existed."

She handed him a book and he took it from her quickly, holding it tightly against his chest like a shield, as if he were afraid that she would lash out and punch him in the chest. The hunchback gulped, looking up with curious, dull green eyes. His eyes were probably the only part of him that would ever be beautiful, irises like emeralds with the sun's reflection across them. "How are you so sure?"

Jamie stood up, watching as the boy straightened himself and waited for her response with anticipation. She sighed. "Because I was in your shoes once," was her reply to him.

And then she turned around and walked down the hallway, wanting to forget ever talking to him but knowing that she couldn't. She had much more in common with Quasimodo than she realized. Both of them desperately wanted to be something that they could never be- beautiful.

* * *

**Liked it? I tried to make it funny and dramatic at the same time... Remember the characters named in the chapter. All of them will eventually be very significant to the story.**

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! Oh, and Happy Halloween! What are you all going as? I'm going to be the Princess of Darkness (pics of my costume on my Instagram, link in my bio!)**

**~Kelsi/Leslie/Mrs. Quasimodo**


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